A New Kind of Evil
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: "I wasn't choking on food, but a memory, one so dark and so violent that my body was physically rejecting the recollection. Sammy's face was frozen in a look of abject horror, a look I had sworn would never again obstruct his features." Dean and Sam discover that not all evil is supernatural; in fact the darkest evil of them all is of a human nature. Hurt/Sam and Protective/Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This story can be read independently or as a sequel to The Aftermath, and it also has a small connection to Frostbite. It is set post Skin 1x06.

Warning: Mentions of the molestation of a child, but not in great detail.

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><p>"No, no wendigos."<p>

"Come on Dean."

"What did I say Sam?"

"Yeah but..."

"I said a simple hunt. It's either that or no hunt at all, which I'm starting to think is the better plan."

"Dean, don't be ridiculous I can handle it." Sam sighed in exasperation.

"You're the one being ridiculous Sam! You got your ass kicked by that shifter less than a week ago. You haven't slept well, your back is still a mess, and you practically have a heart attack whenever someone comes up behind you." I reasoned gently. I wanted to prove my point without insulting or offending my little brother.

"Stop being so dramatic." Sam dismissed.

"Dramatic? Dramatic was you this morning when Bobby tapped you on the shoulder to give you coffee and you practically jumped out of the chair."

"He just startled me, that was all."

"I know Sam. I get that you would be a little jumpy after what happened. You got beat to hell little brother, which is why I want you to take more time to fully recover before we get involved in another hunt."

"I know that, but I am doing a lot better, and I can handle it. Besides I'm getting restless, we need to do something."

I nodded in understanding, because even though it had only been a week I was also feeling the itch to get moving. But I was more than willing to ignore that itch because I knew my little brother was still hurting.

"Yeah I get that, that's why I said you could choose a hunt, but it has to be a simple salt and burn or something." I compromised.

"There's no such thing as a simple salt and burn."

Sam startled at the sudden entrance of the older hunter; settling immediately after realizing his mistake and looking down at the table in embarrassment. I placed my hand on Sam's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze in support.

"Balls, sorry Sam." Bobby apologized with a look of frustration, no doubt towards himself.

Sam threw a forgiving smile Bobby's way and then looked back down at his computer screen, letting his hair fall before his face. This same situation had occurred multiple times throughout the week. Every time I was left trying to convince Sam that there was no reason for him to feel ashamed, that anyone who had to go through what he did has every right to be a little jumpy.

"You boys looking for a hunt?" Bobby asked; eager to move past the awkwardness.

"Apparently, but something simple; nothing too strenuous." I said, twitching my head in my little brother's direction in explanation.

"Well I'll keep an ear out." He responded. "You boys want something to eat?"

"Yeah I could eat." I admitted.

"Well than get your ass up and help me make some breakfast. I ain't your maid." Bobby grumbled, gathering supplies from the fridge.

"Yes sir." I laughed, pushing back from the table and getting to my feet.

"I've got some bacon, sausage, bread for toast, and eggs. Sound good?"

As Bobby and I cooked up a big breakfast, Sam sat hunched over her computer in search of a hunt.

"Alright Sam clear off the table." I instructed, filling three plates full of food.

Bobby filled three mugs of coffee and set them on the table, I followed with three plates of full. I placed a plate full of food in front of the older hunter and myself and then set a plate full of eggs before my little brother.

"Uh what's with this?" Sam asked, looking at me with an unimpressed expression.

"Those would be eggs little brother, scrambled just the way you like them." I replied with an innocent smile.

"Yeah I see that, but how come all I have is eggs?" Sam questioned, looking between Bobby and I, the older man simply shrugged and started eating.

"Because your throat is still healing Sam."

"It's still a little raw, but I can eat real food Dean."

"Eggs are real food, and they go down a lot nicer. And in case you don't recall, we tried toast yesterday and you hacked for like an hour." I reminded.

Sam huffed in annoyance and slowly began to pick at the food on his plate.

I figured by this point in time I should really just accept the fact that my little brother would never be a hearty eater, but it was just a matter I could never let drop.

"And because all you're getting is eggs I expect you to eat that plate clean." I declared.

Sam sent an irritated glare my way, one that told me he would eat as much as he damn well pleased. I shook my head, trying to get that kid to eat a decent amount of food always felt like fighting a losing battle.

True to form, Sam was the last one to finish his breakfast and by the time he pushed his plate away there was still food on it. Watching the young man squirm around in his chair uneasily made it clear to me that he had been sitting too long and his back was paying for it.

Sam stood slowly and started to clean up before I stopped him.

"Don't worry about the dishes Sam, I got it covered."

I was surprised not to get an argument, which attested to how sore the kid must have been.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Sam informed us, stiffly making his way up the stairs. I watched him go; being sure he wasn't going to need any help before gathering the dishes.

"I swear he does that just to piss me off." I griped, staring at the egg remaining on my kid brother's plate.

"That's the most I've seen him eat in one sitting since the two of you showed up." Bobby pointed out as he began to clean up.

"That's not saying much." I mumbled.

"Well he's still healing Dean, plus it's not like the boy was ever much of an eater, you were always the one that would clean me right out whenever the two of you came to stay, even as kids."

"That's your own fault Bobby. You always had so much good food."

"Yeah well I'd stalk up on it if I knew you two were on your way. Never did agree with the way your Dad fed you kids." The older hunter grumbled with a shake of his head.

I could make no objection. John Winchester wasn't much of a cook even if he had been around enough to do it. He also wasn't a big fan of spending money on quality food, never much seeing the point in it because there was no pay off in that sort of investment. The man believed that the purpose of food was to keep you alive, so he bought what was cheap and easy, however unappealing it may have been.

"You want to wash or dry?"

I was about to answer Bobby when I heard Sam call for me. I held one finger up to the older hunter, indicating that I would only be a minute as I sprinted up the stairs.

The call didn't sound urgent or as though it was made in distress, but any holler from my little brother always had me rushing.

I got to the top of the stairs and could hear the shower running so I knocked on the bathroom door.

"What's up Sammy?" I asked from outside.

A second later the door was opened for me and I entered the bathroom to see my younger brother standing there fully clothed looking like a lost puppy.

"I…I need some help." Sam stuttered out awkwardly, biting his lip and looking down at his feet.

"With what?" I asked.

"My shirt." Sam muttered quietly.

It took a second for me to realize what the kid was getting at. Then I noticed how he was tugging gently at the bottom of his t-shirt. My little brother couldn't get his shirt off. I wondered for a minute how he'd been dressing and undressing himself all week, but thinking back I recalled that all week he'd been wearing button-up plaid shirts and zip-up sweaters. This was the first day since we got here that he had put on a pullover shirt, and apparently it's easier to put on than get off.

"Alright man, no worries." I said, making a point to be casual so that my little brother wouldn't feel so embarrassed.

"I tried. I just couldn't get my arms…" Sam faded off, hiding under his bangs.

"It's not a big deal." I took a step closer towards my little brother, grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt and slowly rolling it up, realizing just when I was about to tell Sam to put his arms up that he couldn't.

"Sit on the toilet seat. I'm not tall enough for this sasquatch." I joked, guiding him towards the toilet, kicking the lid closed and gently pushing him down.

Sam released a low moan as he sat.

"Now put your arms out forward, I'm going to pull this over your head and then slide it off your arms." I explained patiently.

Sam obeyed immediately, stretching his arms out in front of him as I slowly pulled the shirt over top of his head.

"So much girly hair." I teased as I pulled the neck of the shirt over his head, messing up his long brown locks.

"Shut-up." He threw back not unkindly.

"There we go." I said, sliding the t-shirt off my brother's arms and dropping it on the bathroom counter, knowing that throwing it on the floor would mean that Sam had to bend down to pick it up again.

"Thanks." Sam groaned quietly as he came to stand.

"Anytime kiddo." I smiled genuinely, feeling content with the small Sammy smirk I got in return. As I opened the door and went to leave the room I glanced back over my shoulder and came to a halt.

"Fuck Sammy." I swore after getting a good view of his back.

I had examined it after that shifter kicked my brother's ass and then again after we got to Bobby's, but Sam had been hiding it from me for the past week, probably because only recently had I been able to touch him without making him flinch.

"It's not that bad, really, I can barely feel it."

"Yeah that's why you couldn't even take your shirt off. Cut the bullshit Sam." I admonished, gently turning him around so I could get a better look.

"Shit buddy, why didn't you tell me it was still this bad?"

"You cut the bullshit Dean, you know exactly why I didn't tell you." Sam said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Because you're too fricken stubborn?"

"No, because no matter how many times I try and tell you that what happened wasn't your fault, I know you still feel guilty. And the last thing I want to do is rub your face in it by whining about how screwed up my back is every other minute."

I should have known. Should have figured Sam would be his stupidly considerate self and worry about me when he was the one in pain.

"I'm not a sensitive little girl Sam, I don't need you protecting my feelings." I said as I gently skimmed my fingers over the dark bruises coding my kid brother's back. Sam sucked in a breath as my fingers trailed over a particularly nasty looking cluster of bruises up by his shoulder blade. No wonder the kid couldn't lift his arms up over his head. I'm surprised he could move them at all.

"God buddy, this isn't looking much better than it was a week ago." I muttered, moving to stand in front of Sam and carefully feeling along his two healing ribs.

He flinched a little at the one, but that was the only reaction he gave.

"Well at least these are doing better. One of them needs a little more time though." I assessed. "Your face is looking a lot better, and the bruise on your neck has faded a lot."

"I know Dean. I looked in the mirror this morning."

"You're telling me you saw that mess of hair and didn't do anything about it?" I cracked, smirking at the bitch face the comment got me.

"Can I shower now? Or do you want to stand in the bathroom and feel me up a little longer?" Sam questioned with a smile.

"Oh gross, you're sick man, just sick." I accused in disgust, hearing my little brother snickering as I left the room and shut the door behind me.

"Everything good?" Bobby asked as I arrived down stairs.

"Yeah he's alright. Beat to hell and being a moron about it, but he'll be fine."

"You really want to take him on a hunt in his condition?" Bobby questioned a second later as I started drying the dishes.

"Hell no." At the older hunter's inquisitive look I continued. "He's the one who keeps pushing the hunt."

The man beside me raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What? The kid's getting restless I guess."

"No, your brother doesn't get restless Dean. Sam could spend months sitting on that shitty couch with his nose in a book."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but for the last two days the kid has been bitching about getting back on the road."

"Hmmm." Bobby hummed. I stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"What's with the hmm?"

"Sam isn't the one getting restless Dean, you are."

I opened my mouth to argue the accusation, but didn't get the chance.

"Don't try and deny it boy. You're running out of cars to fix and you've been pacing around the house like a caged animal. You're bored. And if I picked up on it, you can bet your ass that Sam did."

"So what, I'm bored. What does that have to do with Sam harassing me to go on a hunt?"

"My god you are dense in the skull boy. That kid wants you to be happy. He knows that you have had a hard week. He knows you're beating yourself up over what happened to him and he wants things to go back to normal."

"Ha! Normal, what the hell is normal anymore?" I thought aloud.

"You're on your own with that one kid." The older hunter finished washing the last dish and made his exit.

I stood drying dishes as my mind wandered, well it didn't do much wandering actually, it stayed focussed one topic, one little brother. One little brother who spends far too much time worrying about me and not enough taking care of himself. A little brother who is in pain and traumatized and still puts my needs before his own. A little brother who needed a serious talking to. The same little brother who shuffled into the room just as I was drying the last dish.

He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a zip-up sweater, clearly not wanting to try and maneuver himself into another pullover shirt.

I smirked at him as he looked over at me.

"What?"

"Dude you look like a drowned rat, you sure you don't want me to snip off a little bit of that hair? Bobby's got some clippers hanging around somewhere." I offered.

Sam acknowledged my offer by showing me the longest finger on his right hand. He sat down sideways in the kitchen chair, keeping his bruised body as far from the back of the seat as possible.

"You're not going to need that." I told him as he reached for the laptop sitting across the table.

"Why?" He gave me a curious stare.

"Because we are not taking another hunt, not for another week at least." I stated, preparing myself for the argument.

"Why not?"

"Because you're hurt Sam."

"I'm Fi…"

"Don't you dare say it! Dude I just helped you out of your shirt, because your back is so fucked up you can't even get it off. You're bruised to hell, there is no way you could even man a shovel if we actually found a salt and burn, and I don't want to do all the work." I lectured.

"I can watch your back while you dig up a grave. I'm not an invalid." Sam pouted.

"No you're not, you are injured." I clarified.

"We have hunted with injuries a million times before Dean, what makes this time any different?" Sam's frustration was rising.

"It's not necessary, there's nothing pressing, nothing to finish. Let's just rest up for a while man." I implored.

"But I'm bored."

"No Sam, you're not. I don't know why I needed Bobby to point it out to me, but you will never be bored when you're in a house full of books. Because you're a dork like that." I tease with a smile.

"But you're bored." Sam said, staring up at me.

"Yeah, so what? I can find other things to do, no one ever died of boredom…that I know of." I added thoughtfully.

"Dean I can handle a hunt. Honestly."

"I know Sam, but you don't have to. I know you're just doing it for me, and although I think that's moronic, I appreciate it, but it's not necessary."

"It's not just for you. I want to go on a hunt."

"Why? If this is about Dad? I swear we'll keep looking for him."

"It's not, it's about me." Sam paused for a moment, searching for his words; I allowed him all the time he needed.

"I just want to feel normal."

I nodded my head, because Bobby had told me as much, and because I understood completely. There were numerous times in my life where I'd been injured or hurt or scared and I always craved normalcy in the aftermath…well our version of normal anyways.

"Just one hunt man, after we can come back and stay here for a month if that's what you want."

I stood pondering the offer.

"Please Dean, I need this."

A part of me knew Sam was bullshitting; that he wanted to go on a hunt because he thought it would be good for me and that it in fact had nothing at all to do with him. But he was using those damn puppy dog eyes, and even with the wet straggly hair, the look still made me cave.

"Fine, but only if we find something simple, I'm not risking your well-being just so you can feel normal."

"What could be more normal than that?" Sam said with a laugh. I knew it was supposed to be a joke, but I found no humour in the reality of the comment.

Sam spent most of the day scavenging the internet for a new case and it would seem he was having difficulty finding a hunt that fit the restrictions I had set out. It had to be simple, as simple as a hunt could possibly be and it had to be within a few hours of Bobby's because I knew that Sam's back could not handle a long drive, regardless of how fine he keeps insisting he is.

I spent most of my day working on a car that had no hope in hell of ever being functional, but I was trying my hardest not to look bored.

Bobby made chilli for dinner and I dragged Sam off the laptop long enough to come eat it.

"If you two were still looking for a simple hunt I think I got one for you." Bobby announced as we dug into our meal.

"What do you got?" I smiled at the disgusted look Sam sent my way for talking with my mouth full.

"Cursed object it looks like."

"Sounds simple enough." I admitted. "Where's it at?"

"A town called Herrick; it's in Gregory County, about three hours west of here."

Once Bobby said the name of the town I heard a spoon clatter at the same time that I started gagging on my chilli. I gagged until my mouth was empty. I felt Bobby's hand pounding on my back, no doubt assuming I was choking. What he didn't know was that I wasn't choking on food, but a memory, one so dark and violent that my body was physically rejecting the recollection.

"Breathe boy." I followed Bobby's order, regaining control of my body and looking across the table at my little brother.

Sam was staring far off; his face frozen in a look of abject horror, a look I had sworn would never again obstruct his features.

"Sam, Sammy." I called out, pulling him back from the memory I knew he was reliving. Sam twitched; his mind and body returning to the present as his gaze met mine.

"I'm here, you're here, were good." I reassured, begging him to believe me with my expression. Sam nodded jerkily in response.

"Yeah." He rasped in reply, visibly straining to regain his composer.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that I'm missing something." Bobby stated uneasily.

"You could say that." Sam told the older hunter, without removing his gaze from mine.

Sam and I continued to look at each other, each of us gaining strength and support from one the other.

"You're going to have to find someone else for that hunt Bobby." I said after a moment, finally breaking eye contact with my little brother and looking over at the older man.

"Dean—

"No Sam!" I said, my tone more aggressive than I had intended.

"It's a hunt we—

"I said no! There is no way in hell we are going back there." I seethed, my body vibrating in a barely controlled rage.

Sam gave me a look, one that was so soaked in sympathy it made me hate myself, and all the sudden I was suffocating, desperate for air.

"I'll be outside." I muttered, clumsily climbing to my feet and practically running for the door. I heard Sam call out my name, and while that was something I would rarely ever ignore, I knew that I would be of no help to him until I got a grip of myself, so I kept walking.

By the time I made it to the shop I was flowing with a hate that I hadn't felt in over a decade, a rage that I had buried away for so long, and was rising up and taking control of every part of me, spreading throughout my body like a poison.

Once I was in the shop, throwing and smashing every object in my sight, I stopped fighting and allowed the memory I was so desperate to escape to take over, losing myself in the darkness and the pain.

"_Why can't we just stay at Bobby's?" I looked across the diner table at the skinny ten year old boy picking slowly at his food. _

"_I don't know Sammy. Dad told me the same thing that he told you. Him and Bobby had a falling out." I answered casually, checking out the ass of the hot chic that walked past our table. _

"_And what does that mean exactly?" _

"_It means that Bobby and him aren't talking. It means that while he's away we are stuck hanging around that shitty motel instead of fixing cars at Bobby's." _

"_That's stupid." Sam sulked. _

"_You're telling me. I'm the one stuck being a fucking dishwasher." I said; referring to the part-time job I had had to get at the diner because John was taking longer than he was supposed and as usual he left us with practically no cash. _

"_Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, looking up at me apologetically through that ridiculous hair. _

"_It's not your fault Sammy." I said with a sigh, annoyed that I'd allowed my anger with our situation to come out at my little brother. _

"_Just eat your dinner." I instructed softly. Sam nodded obediently, something he rarely did, and he probably only did because I had made him feel guilty. Some brother I was. _

"_How about after my shift we go grab some junk food at the corner store? We can take it back to the motel and see if maybe we can get the stupid tv to work." I offered with a smile, pretending not to worry about how that might affect our cash flow. If I have to I'll just pick up an extra shift. _

_Watching Sammy's little face light up at the idea made it all worth it, every stupid minute of washing nasty dishes in boiling hot water._

"_Really Dean?" God those dimples, why does he even have the dimples? Aren't the big puppy dog eyes enough? Not to mention that stupid brown shaggy hair that's always hanging in his face. _

"_Yeah really squirt." I replied with a smile. _

"_Kid! Your break was over five minutes ago, get your ass back here!" _

_I resisted the urge to tell off my boss as he yelled at me from the kitchen, the only thing stopping me being the fact that I needed this job in order to feed the little midget seated across from me. _

"_Coming." I hollered, sliding out of the booth. _

"_Finish your supper Sammy. If you eat everything on that plate I will swipe you a slice of pie from the kitchen." I said with a wink. _

"_Okay Dean." Sam replied, his eyes twinkling with excitement. _

"_Good man." I said, messing up the kid's hair. "My shift is over in two hours. So you just finish your food and do your homework." _

"_I'm already finished it." No duh, the kid has been sitting there since three this afternoon. I hated having to drag him to work. 3-8 was a long time for a ten year old to sit around for, but I couldn't leave him at the motel. It was one of the sketchier ones we've stayed in and there is no way I was leaving my baby brother alone in that hellhole. _

"_That's cause you're a dork. Did you bring a book?" _

"_Yup, I got one at the school library like you told me to." _

"_That's my boy." _

"_It's about dinosaurs." _

"_Cool." I said, laughing at the smile that spread across my little brother's face. I don't know why the kid thought my approval was so important, but I'd be lying if I said I it didn't make me feel good. _

"_Hey! Kid! You looking to get canned?" _

_I rolled my eyes at the stupid question, but turned to head back to the kitchen before Joe followed through on the threat he's been making every shift for the past week. _

"_My name's Dean, I don't know who this kid is that you keep yelling at." I quipped as I made my way to the kitchen, sending a wink over my shoulder to my giggling little brother. _

_I kept a constant eye on Sammy as I washed dishes, being able to see him through the kitchen door if I looked over my shoulder. It was killer on my neck, but my constant need to check on the kid always trumped my own personal comfort. I was soaking an egg covered frying pan when I did a Sam-check and what I saw had me making a quick exit from the kitchen and towards my kid brother._

_There was an older man sitting with him, one that I recognized from the motel and one that made me just as uncomfortable the first time I set eyes on him as he did now. _

_He was sitting across from Sam, and to everyone else I am sure he looked as though he was just being friendly, but something in my gut made me doubt his sincerity. _

"_What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, walking up to the booth. _

"_Oh hello. I was just keeping little Sammy here company, you must be Dean. I'm Gary, I think we are staying at the same hotel, I am a few doors down from you." He said, standing up and stretching his hand out towards me. There was nothing appalling or offsetting about the man's appearance. He was shorter than he looked, probably about 5'10'', but he was chunky with brown hair and a beard. He looked to be about my dad's age, maybe a little older. But there was something in his eyes and even in his voice that seemed fake, and it made my stomach twist. _

"_My name is none of your fucking business, and neither is my brother's, so I suggest you go find somewhere else to sit, or we are going to have a problem." I glowered, doing my finest John Winchester impression. _

_The man smiled in reply, nodding his head. _

"_I understand, didn't mean to cause any trouble. Have fun reading your book little Sammy." He said as he made his way across the diner and took a seat at another booth. _

"_What's the matter Dean?" Sam asked, looking up at me quizzically. _

"_What have I said about strangers Sammy?" I asked, staring steadily at my younger brother. _

"_I'm sorry, he just asked about my book and then he told me his name and he asked me what mine was. I just introduced myself and then he asked me who I was with and I just said my brother Dean, but then I didn't talk to him anymore, I promise." Sam told me, staring up at me with wide honest eyes, imploring me to believe him. _

"_Okay Sammy, but don't talk to him anymore alright? Don't talk to anybody, just me." I insisted. _

"_Okay Dean." Sam agreed with a nod of his head. _

"_Good, now I have to go back to the kitchen, so just stay here and read your book." At Sam's affirming nod I returned to my neglected dishes. _

_I had an hour left of my shift when Joe came up and told me to go sort the garbage at the back. I groaned at the task, not at all eager to end up covered in nasty diner garbage, but I knew I had no choice but to do it. I was on thin ice with the boss as it was. I took a glance over my shoulder at Sammy, smirking at how deeply he was enthralled in that book. I looked across the diner where I had seen the man, Gary or whatever his name was. Noticing he was no longer there I headed to go sort through garbage. _

_It took me the rest of my shift to separate the cardboard and plastic from the many bags of trash stacked in the back room. Out of all of the diners in the world somehow I got a job at the one that bothers to recycle. I pulled off the cleaning gloves and apron I had been wearing, tossing them in the hamper as I made my way through the kitchen. I went to the office to pick up my pay, not only had I managed to convince my boss that I was sixteen, but I also talked him into paying me in cash at the end of every shift. I collected my pay for the day, a measly thirty bucks, and then headed out to meet my little brother. _

_As I entered the dining room I stopped in my tracks, staring wide-eyed at the table where my little brother was supposed to be seated. I looked around frantically, calling out for Sammy. I checked every booth and the bathrooms and all through the kitchen, I asked everybody there with no luck until an elderly lady got my attention. _

"_Sammy, is that the little boy with brown hair?" She asked gently. _

"_Yes, yes did you see him?" I questioned frantically. _

"_He left about an hour ago with his father, but I think he left his book bag." She said pointing at the booth Sam had been at, where his school bag was now the only thing that remained. _

"_Father? What did he look like?" I asked hastily. _

"_He had brown hair and a beard, seemed like a nice fellow. Why dear? Whatever is the matter?" _

_I was too panicked to bother giving her an answer, grabbing Sam's book bag and running out the door. Because I knew exactly who had my little brother and I knew precisely where the son of a bitch took him. _

_The motel was a couple blocks away. As I sprinted down streets and alleys with horror scenes playing out in my mind, I wished, not for the first time since being ditched in this town, that I was old enough to drive a car around. Every second I spent running was another second Sammy was away from me, another second I didn't know what was happening to him, another second I wasn't protecting him. _

_I ran faster, faster than I had ever run during training, or even during a hunt, faster than I ever thought my legs could carry me. _

_As I was coming up to the motel, I reached around and grabbed a hold of the gun I had tucked in the waistband of my jeans. I tried to remember what room I had first seen that man standing outside of, racking my brain, visualizing the scene. It wasn't until I ran past it that I remembered. He had been three rooms down from ours. _

_As I approached the room I kicked down the door without a second thought, my gun at the ready as the door splintered and swung open. _

_Nothing on this earth could have prepared me for what I saw behind that door. I could never have been ready for it, or expecting it. In my worst dreams I never would have thought to see what I did. _

_There was my baby brother laying on a bare mattress in nothing but his boxers. His skinny arms and legs were tied to the bedposts and that bastard was straddling him. It took me a second to register the scene and when I did I noticed that that fucker had his hand inside my baby bother's boxers. _

_My mind could barely comprehend what was going on, the rage growing and flowing throughout my body causing a ringing in my ears, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the sobs of my little brother. Sammy's cries were muffled as he screamed through the duct tape plastered over his mouth, but I heard them loud and clear. I reluctantly tore my eyes from my Sammy to stare murderously at the monster on top of him. _

"_Christo." I said. I was momentarily shocked when there was no reaction from the man, but the anger inside me quickly overcame that shock. _

_My finger twitched on the trigger, every instinct in my body telling me to pull it, to rid of the threat, to kill the monster that dared to lay a hand on my baby brother. _

_But there was a small voice that stopped me. It was not a moral one, it didn't tell me that this was a person and that killing him would be crossing a line, it didn't tell me that I couldn't take another's life. No this was a different sort of voice, one that I always listen to because it tells me how to protect my baby brother, the one that spoke up when I first laid eyes on this fucker. _

_The voice told me that if I put a bullet in that man's brain he would fall on top of my baby brother. He will topple on top of Sammy. If I shoot him from this close with this caliber of bullet his blood will splatter on my little brother, his brain matter and skull fragments would land on my kid. And there is no fucking way in hell I will be causing any more pain or trauma to my Sammy. _

_No fucking way. _

"_Get the Hell Away from him." I bit out, restraining every fiber of my being from emptying my gun into the monster hurting Sam. _

_The scumbag pulled his hand out from underneath my little brother's boxers and slowly climbed off of him, coming to a stop once he was standing on the other side of the bed. _

"_Get in the bathroom and shut the fucking door." I ordered in a tone more lethal than it had ever been before. _

"_I was just—_

"_Do __**NOT**__ speak. You open your mouth again and I blow your fucking head off." I seethed; my voice loud and dangerous. _

_The man must have seen the promise in my eyes, because he did as I said immediately; acting like the skittish spineless piece of shit that he was. _

_Once he shut the door I let my gun fall to my side, my hand shaking as I tucked it into my jeans again. I knew that chicken shit wouldn't be a threat anymore. It was clear he only had the guts to harm vulnerable defenseless children. But just to be sure he didn't get any ideas of making a run for it I grabbed a chair and wedged it underneath the bathroom doorknob, blocking the dirt bag in._

_I made my way quickly to my brother's side, pulling the butterfly knife from my pocket. I went to peel the tape off my kid brother's mouth, my heart shredding as I looked into the watery horrified eyes staring up at me. _

"_It's okay Sammy, I got you little brother." I vowed as I carefully peeled the tape off, wincing at the angry red skin that lay beneath it. _

"_Dean!" My kid sobbed the second he was able to. _

"_Right here Sammy. I got you. You're going to be just fine." I soothed, paying no heed to the tears I could feel streaming down my face. Doing the best I could to keep my voice level and confident. I knew that right now more than ever my little brother needed my strength. _

"_Dean please help me." The plea drove knives into my heart, as I lay a shaky hand on my Sammy's head, smoothing his hair to the side and wiping his flowing tears away. _

"_I'm right here kiddo, I'm going to take care of you." I cooed as I reached over the small trembling body and cut through the ropes attaching his wrists to either side of the bed post. My anger flared at the blood seeping down my brother's arms originating from the rope burns. I could tell from the damage done to his wrists and ankles how hard he had struggled and fought to get free. My body vibrated with the need to go slaughter the thing that did this to my brother. But no matter how badly I needed it, it didn't matter, because my baby brother needed me here. _

"_Almost finished buddy." I encouraged softly as I cut the last of the ropes off his bleeding ankles. _

_Once Sam was free he scrambled to me, throwing his arms around my neck and crying, gasping and shaking as his small body was wracked with sobs. _

_I don't know how long I stood there holding him, whispering comforting nonsense into his ear as I combed my fingers through his hair and hugged his body close to mine, wishing I could hold him in my arms forever, always keeping him this protected. _

_I stood from the bed, feeling his small legs wrap around me and his thin arms cling tighter to my neck. I looked for something in the room to use to cover up my young brother, but could not bring myself to let anything in here touch him again. So I strategically shimmied out of my plaid button up, belatedly realizing that I had left my jacket at work. Without extracting Sammy from my body I pulled off my button up and wrapped it securely around the young boy latched onto me. _

_I made my way to the splintered door, walking out of the room from hell and into the cool night air. I was not the least bit surprised that no one had heard the commotion or called the police. I felt as though this type of hotel would be a host to loads of illegal activity and no one residing here would want the cops snooping about. I walked to our room, slipping the room key from my pocket and opening the door, hating that I had nowhere else to go, nowhere safer to take my little brother. _

_I carried him into our room, immediately closing and locking the door behind us. Sam was whimpering softly into my neck, his grip on me tight and his small body trembling. _

"_I got you little brother. You're safe now. I'm going to keep you safe." I vowed, sitting slowly down onto the bed, resting against the headboard as I soothed my baby brother; whispering reassurances into his ear as I rubbed up and down his back. _

_I have no idea how long we sat in that position, but eventually Sammy's sobs began to taper off and he was left tiredly resting against me. His thin body was shivering, I wasn't sure if it was from fear or cold, but I decided it was best to get some warm clothes on him. I slowly detached the thin arms that were locked around my neck, calming Sam with soft promises once he began to panic._

"_I'm not going anywhere buddy, just going to lay you down, alright?" I asked as I carefully rolled him onto his back and climbed off the bed. _

_I went for Sam's duffle, grabbing a clean pair of underwear and his sweatpants. I returned quickly to Sam's side, seeing his eyes closed, and though I could tell he was not yet asleep I hoped that he would be soon, if only to spare me from having to stare into those terrified eyes one second longer. _

_I made to remove my brother's boxers, about to slip them off, but as I touched the waist band the small boy on the bed released a frightened sob. My hands stilled immediately. I had changed my little brother hundreds of times, both when he was younger and now. Whenever he fell asleep in his clothes in front of the tv, or in the car after a late hunt. I would carry him to bed and change his clothing as he slept. He never cared before, but I guess that changed, and for that I hated the monster all the more. _

"_Sammy, open your eyes buddy." I instructed softly. _

_My baby brother's eyes opened slowly, staring up at me full of tears and fear, and my heart clenched violently. _

"_Keep your eyes on me kiddo. I'm just going to get you into some clean clothes; we've done this a hundred times before. Alright?" I asked; making sure the situation was as comfortable for my little brother as possible._

_Sam nodded at me, taking a deep breath and swiping the tears from his face. I gave a reassuring smile as I placed a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair from his face. _

"_It's just me little brother." I recited calmly as I slid Sam's boxers off, relieved that there didn't seem to be any visible damage to the area underneath, as well as disgusted that that had to be a concern at all. I quickly slipped the fresh pair of boxers on the small body, followed by the warm sweatpants. I grabbed one of my sweaters, knowing how Sam always seemed to find comfort in my clothing whenever he was sick or hurting. I gently pulled Sam up into a sitting position, just now noticing the finger-print sized bruises littering his arms and torso. I clenched my jaw in anger, but kept my hands gentle as I slipped the sweater onto the young boy. _

_Sam looked even smaller swallowed up in my sweater, his shaggy hair hanging down in front of his tear-stained face as his big watery eyes looked up at me from under his bangs. _

_That look making me desperate to make this better for him, to take away all the pain and bring back his innocence. _

_I knew there were questions I had to ask, answers I required to make sure that Sam was okay, but I dreaded making the kid relive the situation. _

_I sat facing the young boy on the bed, trying to form words as I gazed at the traumatized child before me. _

"_Sammy, I need you to tell me what happened." _

_Sam looked up at me, eyes wide and panicked as he started to shake his head. _

"_No Dean, I don't want you to be angry." He hiccupped. _

"_I won't Sam, I promise. I just need to know, nothing you say will make me angry." I declared earnestly, ducking my head to see my little brother's face and reassure him with my soft expression. _

_After a moment Sam seemed convinced and he nodded shakily, taking in a few deep breaths before beginning. _

"_He came to me at the diner and said that you were waiting outside for me. I didn't believe him, but when I peeked in the kitchen you weren't there. He said that you had gone out the back and you were waiting for me. I went with him, just to check. And then when I didn't see you I tried to get back inside, but he wouldn't let me. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He dragged me to the car and put me inside. I tried really hard to fight Dean but he was so strong." Sam was practically hyperventilating now, trying to talk through his tears as he hiccupped and gasped for breath. _

"_Sam, Sammy calm down buddy. It's okay." I comforted, entrapping the young boys hand in mine as I ran my fingers through his hair. It was a lie, because all of this was pretty fucking far from okay, but the hard truth was not what my baby brother needed right now. _

_I coached Sam into taking deep slow breaths until he had calmed down. _

"_He brought me back here and dragged me into his room. I kept fighting him but he just picked me up by the arm and threw me on the bed." There was a pause, before my kid brother continued with his eyes downcast._

"_He tied me up Dean, and then he… he st-started cutting off my clothes." Sam stuttered, every tear I wiped from his cheek being replaced by another. _

"_He…he took pictures… of me in my underwear. I told him to stop, but he just taped my mouth." _

_My body shuttered at the new information, and I made a mental note to go burn down that fucking room when we were finished this conversation. _

"_He got on top of me Dean…and he put his hand… and then you came." Sam choked out, his emotions taking over. _

_I wanted to just hold him and comfort him, but I needed one more answer first. _

"_Sam, listen to me." I ordered softly, placing my hand along my little brothers wet cheeks and angling his head up so he was looking at me. _

"_Did he hurt you Sammy?" I asked, ignoring the way my voice cracked as I waited for a response. _

"_Just when he grabbed me." Sam answered, explaining the bruises on his upper body. _

"_Anywhere else? Did he hurt you anywhere else Sammy?" I didn't have to say the exact words, my little brother was smart and he knew what I was asking. _

"_No Dean, he just started touching…down there… when you came in." Sam explained through his tears, hiding behind is hair in embarrassment. _

"_Are you sure?" I asked, needing to be positive, needing to know if I had to take the kid to the hospital. _

"_Yes Dean, I promise." He whispered, looking up at me with wide honest tearful eyes. _

"_Alright Sammy, it's okay, I believe you." I promised, pulling the small kid into my arms and rocking him gently as he lost what little composure he had acquired. _

_It didn't take long before Sam had cried himself to sleep; his emotional and physical exertion draining his energy. I carefully lay Sam back onto the bed, covering him up with the comforter, carding my fingers through his hair before reluctantly climbing to my feet. _

_I grabbed the cellphone and stood by the door, far enough to hopefully not wake Sam, but not so far that I didn't have the young sleeping boy in my sight. I had the phone clenched impossibly hard in my grasp, my body shaking with anger and hate as I listened to the ring. _

"_Yeah?" My father's gruff voice came rough through the phone. _

"_If you don't come home now I'm going to kill him." I vowed in a tone low and dangerous. _

"_What's going on Dean?" _

"_He touched Sammy Dad, that perv put his filthy hands on my little brother." I choked out, my voice clogged with terror. _

"_I'm on my way Dean. Tell me what happened." John ordered as I heard him starting up the car. _

_I told the older hunter everything Sam had told me. My voice shaking with ire and anguish as I fought to control my body, fought to keep myself from going three rooms down and slicing that monster into a million pieces. _

"_Where is he?" I knew who my father was referring to simply by the disgust in his tone. _

"_Three doors down from ours. I put him in the bathroom and blocked off the door, not sure if he's still in there though." _

_When my father spoke again, his voice was as lethal and dangerous as mine had been, but still controlled. _

"_Listen to me Dean, you are not going to touch him."_

"_But Dad—_

"_No. You will stay with Sam. You will not leave his side. He needs you Dean." _

_The statement was simple, but the truth of it sliced deep into my soul. That is why I had not laid a hand on that sick pedophile yet, not because he didn't deserve it, or because I didn't want to, but because my priority number one needed me. My Sammy needed me. He didn't need me avenge him or kill the man that touched him. He needed me to be there with him, to keep him safe. And I couldn't deny him that. _

"_Yes sir." I said, taking a deep breath and trying to contain my erupting emotions. _

"_Good. Do not leave that room until I get there. I should only be a couple of hours." _

"_Yes sir." _

_As with most conversations, there was no farewell, just the simple click of my father ending the call. _

_Sam slept restlessly for the next couple hours, clinging to me as he attempted to rest. He stirred without waking once I began to gently clean and bandage his wrists and ankles. The skin was raw, but was no longer bleeding. His body would heal in no time, his soul; well that was another matter entirely. _

_I didn't move from my position beside my little brother until I heard the Impala pulling up to the motel, the sound of the engine unmistakable to me. I untangled myself from understandably clingy little brother and made my way to the door, opening it and stepping just outside. _

_As John stepped from the car, our eyes met. I was taken aback by the darkness residing in his gaze. A darkness I had never seen before, I was tempted to test him for procession. And then I realized that he was processed. He was processed with hate and anger, and for that I could hardly blame him. _

_I nodded my head to the right, telling him the only information that mattered to him at that point, the direction of the location of the man that hurt his youngest child. _

_My father nodded at me and then pointed back to the room. I understood the order without requiring the verbalization. I turned immediately and headed back inside the room, returning to my place at Sam's side. I smirked fondly as the kid rolled towards me the moment I sat down, throwing his arm over top of my legs and pressing his head up against my hip. _

_For one simple moment it felt as though it was a normal night and I was sharing a bed with my octopus of a little brother. That moment was short lived as the young boy started to recite the word 'no' over and over again. I began to card my fingers through his shaggy hair, smiling when the action did what I had hoped it would and calmed my kid down almost instantly. _

_It was almost an hour later when I heard the distinct squeak of the Impalas trunk popping open. I carefully climbed from the bed and stepped out the motel room door. Dad was standing beside the car, using a rag to clean the blood off a machete, he looked up at me, his expression still full of darkness, but also holding a deep sadness I knew would never be erased. _

"_Was he human?" I asked. That thought had been bothering me, I knew that he wasn't possessed and I didn't think he was anything we'd ever hunted before, but a small part of me thought him to be some sort of supernatural being. Maybe I just wanted that to be the case so I could assure myself that that kind of evil could only be supernatural, perhaps a childish side of me was just hoping that no human could be that despicable. _

"_No Dean, he sure as hell wasn't. He was a monster." My dad's statement had me nodding my head, because perhaps that scum was a member of the human species, but his monstrous actions were anything but human. _

"_Sam said there were…pictures…" I choked out practically gagging at the sheer thought. _

"_Yeah I know. I took care of it." My father's voice shook, whether in fury or disturbance I am unsure. _

_I didn't need to ask if he was dead, I knew that he was. A part of me did want to ask how he was killed, wanted to hear every bloody horrible detail; wanted to know if he had screamed and begged like Sammy had; wanted to know if he cried and whimpered like the children he had hurt. _

_Another part of me didn't want to know what my father was capable; didn't want to know the level of torture John could inflict; didn't want to see that side of my dad. _

_I could tell by the look on John's face that he had no intention whatsoever of sharing the past hour's events with me, because maybe he also wanted to shield me from that side of himself. _

_We never spoke of that night again, Sammy spent weeks being skittish and refusing to let anyone but me lay a hand on him, including John. I remember dad had gone to carry him from the bed to the car and Sam woke up just as our father was sliding a hand under his legs. The kid let out a piercing cry and catapulted out of the bed. I remember seeing an array of emotions flitter across the older man's face, guilt and remorse being the most dominant. But I hadn't had time to examine his features because I had a little brother to calm down. Sammy calmed immediately at my touch, clinging to me as though his life depended on it. _

When I came back from the dark memory I was kneeling on the floor in the shop. I had thrown or smashed everything in reach, tools and glass littered the ground. I didn't realize I had been crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks and tasted the saltiness on my lips. I rubbed at my eyes as I got to my feet, slowly starting to clean up the mess I had made.

"Holy shit Dean, I mean I expected destruction, but this is ridiculous. Looks like a tornado ripped through here." I turned to look at Sam as he wandered into the shop.

"Want some help?" He offered as he picked up a wrench that had ended up in the trash can.

"No, I did it. I can clean it." I said, taking the tool from his hand and placing it back where it belonged.

"Dean—

"We are not going back there man. I don't care what kind of bitch fit you throw, there is no way in hell we are ever stepping foot in that fucking town again."

There was a period of silence, where I continued to clean and Sam stood off to the side.

When my little brother made to speak again, I was ready for the argument, the lecture of how our own personal feelings don't come in to play when innocent lives are at risk, the lecture telling me it was our responsibility.

"Okay."

The simple agreement surprised me and I looked over at Sam.

"You serious? No lecture? No bitching?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm serious. There are other hunters around; they can take care of it."

I looked at him in disbelief.

"I know how hard it would be for you Dean. I'm not going to put you through that."

"You're unbelievable." I snorted.

The young man sent me a curious look.

"It would be hard for me? What about you Sam?" I asked.

He ducked his head down, hiding his expression from my eyes, making it highly difficult for me to get a good read on the kid.

"I was only 10 Dean." The fact came quietly from my little brother, who still wasn't making eye-contact with me.

"You telling me you don't remember it?" I questioned, knowing that was not the truth.

"Sam, come on." I insisted when I still got no response.

"I remember all of it Dean." Sam said, his voice soft as he looked up at me, eyes full of memories I had already relived.

"I remember what the room looked like. I remember the crappy mattress with the springs that jabbed into my back. I remember how hard his grip was. I remember screaming for you before and after he taped my mouth closed. I remember the sound of his voice as he said my name over and over again. I remember the smell of his breath, the sick look on his face, and the feel of his hands on my skin." Sam's voice wavered as he stared at me, tears pouring unobstructed down his face.

"Awe Sammy." I whispered, hating to see my brother's pain.

"I remember being terrified. I remember fighting helplessly. I remember the pain in my wrists and ankles as the rope burned and tore at my skin. I remember thinking that no one was going to come. I remember everything he said he would do to me."

I had no power to stop the tears that escaped out of the corner of my eyes as I stared into the haunted face of my baby brother.

"I'm so sorry Sammy." I choked out, barely holding back the sob trying to escape my throat.

"But you know what I remember most Dean?" I was afraid to ask, surprised when Sam took a step closer to me, pushing his hair back so his eyes could meet mine.

"I remember you saving me." My little brother's words were drenched in love and adoration that I didn't deserve.

"I remember the relief I felt when you broke into the room. I remember my body relaxing as I saw your face, because I knew that you would make everything okay."

I turned away from my little brother, no longer able to take in the love and gratefulness in his voice. Didn't the kid understand that I shouldn't have ever let it get that far? Couldn't he see that I was almost too late to save him?

"And that's why I could handle going back."

I turned back to face the young man before me, tear tracks on his face, but the pain that had been in his eyes was fading away.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, thinking I had missed something.

"You saved me Dean. You were there to make it better for me. No one was there to make it better for you."

"What are you talking about Sam? You were the one who got hurt, not me."

"No, you just got hurt in a different way. You had to handle losing me, and then finding me in the room…in that… position…" Sam attempted to explain awkwardly, as I did a full body shiver at the eeriness of his words.

"You had to handle the situation. You had to decide whether or not to kill him and what to do with a traumatized ten year old. Dean you were only fourteen and you had to take charge and responsibility in a way that people twice your age couldn't have handled."

I was dumbfounded at the things my little brother was saying to me.

"Dean you had to be strong in a lot of ways nobody could, not even dad." I looked up suddenly at the newest comment.

"Dad was strong Sam he…" I faded off.

"He killed him, I know. I may have been ten, but I wasn't a moron." Sam said with a smirk.

"But you had to not kill him, even when I know that every bone in your body was telling you to pull that trigger. You had to control every instinct you had Dean, you had to ignore what you wanted and focus on me instead. That took a kind of strength that Dad doesn't have."

I felt as though I should defend our father, seeing as how he wasn't here to do it himself…he was never around to do it himself.

"I remember being scared that you'd kill him." Sam commented, sitting heavily onto a stool. I grabbed one and sat down across form him.

"Why the hell would you not want me to gun down that sick son of a bitch?" I asked, my feelings toward the monster that laid a hand on my brother coming out loud and clear.

"I had no problem with him dying. It was you killing him that I had a problem with."

I gave my little brother a questioning look, because the kid just wasn't making any sense.

"He was human Dean."

I snorted in disgust at the statement.

"He was a pedophile, but he was still human. And I didn't want to be the reason you became a killer." Sam confessed quietly.

"Sam, if I had ended that sick fuck it would not have been your fault." I announced simply.

"Maybe not, but I would have felt responsible for making you cross the line."

"What line?"

"The line between the things we hunt and humans."

"Sam most of the stuff we hunt isn't half as bad as that bastard was."

"I know, believe me Dean, I know." Sam shuttered. "But I'm still glad you didn't kill him."

I shook my head in confusion. This kid was nuts.

"All I am trying to say is that I wish there had been someone there to make it alright for you, like you did for me." Sam finished with a sigh, fixing me a look full of love and compassion.

"Nothing could make that alright little brother…what happened to you will never be alright, not ever." I clarified, my rage and bitterness sneaking their way into my words.

Sam nodded knowingly.

"I know, anyways, I just came out here to tell you that we don't have to go on that hunt…and to make sure you're okay." Sam admitted softly, staring at me from beneath his bangs.

"This is fucked up." I muttered.

"What?"

"You get reminded of one of the worst days of your life, and somehow you end up out here trying to make me feel better." I scoffed.

"Well if it helps, I can pretty much guarantee you won't be getting much sleep tonight…neither of us will."

I nodded, knowing that they little brother's night terrors were sure to make a violent return.

"No worries kiddo." I said, slipping a hand cautiously over to rest on the back of my little brother's neck. Relieved beyond words that my touch did not cause any sort of cringe or flinch.

I remember after Sam got hurt by that monster. I remembered how long it took him to be okay with physical contact with anybody but me. I recall the number of times he had shied away from dad when the older hunter approached him. I used to feel so bad for our father, horrified by the idea of the one person you are supposed to protect being so fearful of you. I remember thinking how terrible that would feel, and I just recently found out. I found out after the shifter, having Sam flinch when seeing my face after a nightmare, or cringe at my touch. I knew the pain in being feared by the child you were meant to protect and it was a pain I could not bear. I had only had to handle it for a few days, and in those few days I felt as though I lost a piece of who I was.

"You were so patient." The softly spoken comment invaded my thoughts and I looked at my little brother, apparently the kid had read me like a book again.

"I just took care of you Sam." I shrugged off.

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy. I remember all the panic attacks, the anxiety, the nightmares. I practically attached myself to you for months." Sam reminisced.

"I had no intention of letting you out of my sight for a long time, so you made it a lot easier on me by clinging to me all the time." I replied with an honest smile.

"I felt bad that I couldn't seem to be the same way with Dad… it was just…well…he…it was just different."

I nodded in understanding.

"Dad understood."

"No he didn't, I could tell how pissed off he'd get when I'd flinch around him." Sam stated miserably.

"He felt ashamed Sammy, it was nothing that you did." I assured.

"That's what he called me." The admission was confusing.

At my questioning look Sam continued; his gaze down on the floor.

"Gary… he called me little Sammy." My kid brother spat the name out, the memory clearly far from faded. "That's why…after I wouldn't let anyone call me that."

My rage grew again, and I found myself wishing that bastard was still alive so I could go tare him to pieces. But not all of that anger was towards the son of a bitch that hurt my brother, some of it was towards myself.

"You should have told me man!" I said, hating that I had continued to use a name that my brother had feared.

"No, I didn't want you to stop. It was different when you said it, I don't know why. It just was. I always liked it when you called me that and I didn't want that…that monster to take it from me, from us."

"Then how come you kept pushing the Sam thing." I asked after a moment.

"Well I started out because I felt it was unfair to always correct Dad but not you. Later on I just corrected you because I didn't want to be a kid anymore. And Sammy is such a little kid name." Sam finished with an eye roll.

"That's why I use it Sam, because you are a little kid."

"Pfft. Whatever Jerk."

"Bitch."

"So when I call you Sammy…you don't…you know… think of him?" I asked uneasily.

"God now Dean, not at all. I promise." Sam assured.

I nodded, not possessing the right words to express my relief.

We sat their smiling at one another for a minute, soaking in the fact that regardless of all the shit that went on in our past, right now we were both there, and we were okay.

I buried that rage deep beneath me again. A part of me recognized how unhealthy that was, but I knew it was something I just couldn't let go of. I would never be able to get over the fact that some fucking pedophile had gotten his nasty hands on my little brother. It was something I would never forgive myself for allowing to happen on my watch, and it was an injustice I would never be able to move past. The hate I felt toward that monster would never die, even though he did. But for now I could shove it down, I could bury it deep inside of me and let other emotions take over. Like my love for this floppy haired, dimply faced, puppy dog eyed kid sitting before me.

Sitting before me without a fucking coat on; I thought as I saw a shiver run through the thin man's body.

"Dude, why the hell did you come out here?" I asked, standing up and grabbing a hold of my little brothers fore arm, helping to pull him to his feet.

"Wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam said simply, as though it were the most apparent thing on the planet.

"Well next time you come check on me how about putting on a coat." I griped as we headed slowly back towards the house.

"How about next time you storm off you stay inside the house." Sam returned with a smirk.

"Smart-ass." I muttered.

I didn't know if I'd ever be able to step a foot back in Herrick town. Didn't even know if I'd ever be able to talk about it or what happened there without feeling poisonous rage spread throughout my body.

But I did know that I had the best little brother in the entire fucking world and that there is nothing I wouldn't do, no line I wouldn't cross to keep him safe.

* * *

><p>Note: Not sure about whether or not to add to this, let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading! Please commentreview if you have a moment. - Sam


	2. Chapter 2

Note: So apparently I am one some sort of nightmare kick...this just sort of happened. Hope you like it.

* * *

><p>Sam wasn't lying when he said that neither of us would be getting any sleep.<p>

The poor kid couldn't seem to be able to fall asleep and I couldn't even try to until I knew that he was sleeping soundly.

"Sam, got to sleep." I sighed as I watched my little brother looking around the room. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, his body still. That's partially how I knew he wasn't sleeping, the kid is a constant mover, always twitching and shifting in his sleep. I could also tell by his breathing, it was not slow and deep like it is when he sleeps.

"You first." Sam replied quietly, turning his head to look over at my bed.

"That's not how it works little brother."

"Why is that?" Sam asked, turning completely on his side to face me.

"What do you mean?" I wondered, returning the curious look I was getting.

"Why do I always have to fall asleep before you?"

"Not always, sometimes I fall asleep first. Especially when you go all insaniac on me."

"You mean insomniac?" Sam corrected me with a laugh.

"Yeah whatever."

"Still, even then you always try and stay up until I fall asleep."

"No I don't." I objected.

"Dean you totally do, I watch you fight sleep for hours until you finally nod off."

"What's your point kid?" I questioned, somehow frustrated that Sam noticed everything.

"I'm just wondering why you do it. Why do you always have to be the last one to sleep?"

I looked at my little brother, unsure if he could see my raised eyebrows.

"You know why Sam." I said, refusing to commit to an all-out chick-flick moment by spelling out the fact that I slept better when I knew he was peacefully and safely resting.

"Yeah, I suppose I do." Sam sighed.

We both lay there in bed for a few silent moments before Sam spoke again.

"Do you ever get them…bad dreams?" Sam asked me quietly.

"Uuhh I—

"Never mind, of course you don't. Stupid question." Sam muttered, looking away.

"I think I had some after mom." I admitted.

I watched Sam nod his head in understanding.

"So just when you were a kid?" He wondered.

"No." I answered simply.

I could tell by the silence that settled that Sam was itching to know more, and I didn't want to share. But I knew that he was feeling ashamed of his nightmares, and if having a sharing-caring moment was going to take that shame away for my little brother, than share I will.

"After you went to school, I had…uhh, well nightmares I guess." I stuttered. I said I would share, I didn't say I would be good at it.

"Of what?" Sam asked.

"They were always about you, something happening to you." I explained, taking a breath before continuing. "It went on for a couple months, the dreams would be different, but it was always something bad happening to you and me not being able to get to you. Not being able to save you." I finished, clearing my throat awkwardly.

"I didn't know that." Sam whispered.

"I never told you." I responded with a shrug.

"I had them when I was fourteen to…after…uhh…after what happened to you." I confessed quietly after a few more minutes of silence.

"Really?" Sam sounded surprised.

"Yeah, they weren't like yours, not that bad…but I had dreams that I didn't make it….that I didn't get to you on time." I say, trying to ignore the lump that appeared in my throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam rasped with a voice full of emotion.

"Seriously Sam?" I huffed, looking over at the kid in disbelief.

My little brother just stared at me in confusion.

"Dude, you were dealing with enough shit. You had your own dreams to deal with; I'm not telling you about mine. I wouldn't put that on you. You were only ten years old Sammy." I ranted, sitting up in bed to get a better look at this kid.

Sam sat up across from me, our knees touching as we looked at each other. There was enough moonlight coming in the window for me to get a full view of the puppy dog eyes.

"I know, I guess I just wish I could have helped you with them, the way you always helped me with mine…and still do." Sam expressed guiltily.

"You did little brother, you helped me." I said; ducking my head so I could make eye contact with Sam to be sure he believed what I was saying.

"How? I didn't even know you were having nightmares."

"You didn't have to."

Sam gave me a look of disbelief, so I elaborated.

"Sometimes I would hear you having a bad dream, and that would pull me out of mine. Or sometimes I would wake up out of mine and I would feel your skinny little octopus limbs holding onto me. And seeing you next to me, hearing you breathe, and feeling your heartbeat would calm me down instantly, and help me get back to sleep."

My god I was such a girl.

Sam looked unsure, peaking out at me from underneath all his hair.

"Sam you were just a kid, you couldn't help me the same way that I could you. But that doesn't mean that you didn't help in your own way." I tried to explain, needing my brother to understand that he never let me down.

The young man looked at me a moment longer, searching for the truth of my statement in my eyes and eventually nodding his head in acceptance.

"So…are you not sleeping because you're afraid of the nightmares?

Sam looked down to the floor, hiding behind his hair. "I guess."

"Have you had…dreams of…you know…what happened. I mean since you were little have you had anymore nightmares about that…about him?" I asked carefully.

"Uuh, yeah. Just once." Sam shrugged.

I looked at him, not wanting to force him to continue, but wanting to know more.

"It was sometime during my first year at school." Sam started, glancing between me and the floor as he spoke. "There was this criminology class I had to take and we would do case studies on different types of offenders. We would study their MO's and psychoanalyze them. Try and figure out what makes them tick and all that."

"Bet you were good at that." I said with a smile, Sam had been doing that all his life, mind you it was usually with supernatural creatures, not humans.

Sam smirked in response before continuing.

"Anyways, one day we studied pedophiles…"

I watched Sam intently, although it was hard to see his expression as he spent most of the time staring at the floor. He was wringing his hand nervously as he hid behind his hair.

"We talked about their MO's. The general age of these…people, where they hang out, what they often look like, how they treat their victims, and how they act in society. And my god Dean, it was all so spot- on."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not totally catching on.

"I mean he fit the MO perfect; the fact that he was overweight, that he was at least in his 40's, that he went after kids that were alone, that he lured them out and then become more aggressive if they stopped cooperating. The MO said that these guys were usually able to get away with what they did for years, because they came off so harmless to the rest of society."

I sat gritting my teeth as I listened. As though Sam could sense my growing anger, he got to the point quickly.

"Anyways, that lecture kind of brought up all that crap…and I dreamt of it that night…that week actually." He reminisced quietly, "Woke up screaming your name…scared the shit out of my roommate."

I cursed myself for not being there for my little brother.

"Don't do that Dean." I looked up at Sam's comment.

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"Find a way to blame yourself."

"I don't blame myself…I just wish I could have helped." I admitted.

"You did." The simple statement was made in a confident tone and the return of eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"After pretty much a week of interrupted sleep, or no sleep at all, I called you. You remember?"

I wracked my memory for a moment, thinking back, and recalling the event.

_I was sitting on a couch in some chic's apartment, and that chic was straddling me, her short skirt riding up and her c-cups practically popping out of her tight shirt as her lips were locked on to mine. _

_Hands were wondering and tongues were mingling when I heard my phone go off, feeling the vibration in the pocket of my jeans. I dug it out without removing my lips from hers. I had no intention of answering, but I was curious about who was calling, seeing as how John doesn't usually call when he's travelling and not many other people have this number. _

_I sent a sidelong glance at the glowing screen, pulling back immediately at the sight of the illuminated name 'Sammy'. _

"_Dean." The girl whined as I leaned back away from her. _

"_Sorry doll I got to take this." I responded, flipping my phone open. _

"_Hey Sammy, what's up?" I asked casually, as though my brother regularly called me at two in the morning on any given day. _

"_Hi Dean." The voice was soft, but not panicked. I took in a breath, it didn't seem the kid was in danger, but something was most definitely wrong. _

"_What's going on?" I wondered aloud. _

"_Nothing…I…I just wanted to talk…if that's okay…do you have a second?" The request was timid and embarrassed, but what really caught me was a tinge of something else, either fear or a sort of sadness…I couldn't quite peg it, but regardless, something needed to be fixed._

_And just like that, the hot chic currently sucking on my neck was of no importance to me. _

"_Yeah we can talk. Just give me a second alright?" _

"_Sure." _

"_Sorry babe I got to go." I told the girl still straddling me, holding the phone to my chest so my little brother didn't hear. _

"_Awe come on Dean, nothing can be that important." She crooned. _

"_You're wrong. I have to go." I stated shortly, my patience wavering as I carefully tried to push her off me. _

"_Baby they can wait." She insisted, attempting to return her lips to mine. _

"_No they can't. Now get the fuck off me." I ordered. Fun and games were over, I needed to talk to my little brother and this bitch wasn't letting up, or getting off._

"_Wow, sorry. I was under the impression you wanted to have a little fun." She complained petulantly as she climbed off me and sat on the couch with her arms crossed…pouting…what an attractive feature. _

_I didn't grace her bitching with a reply as I got up and picked my jacket up off the floor, going to slip my boots on. _

"_Is that your wife on the phone or something?" Asked Julie…Janet…Janice? Whatever the hell her name was. _

_I rolled my eyes as I found my second boot and slipped it on my foot, heading for the door. _

"_Well I hope your phone call is fucking worth it!" She called out as I opened the door. _

"_Oh it's worth it." I stated as I left the apartment. _

"_Sammy? You still there?" I asked, placing the phone back against my ear as I made my way down the hall, trying to remember how to get out of this building and where I parked the Impala. _

"_Yeah Dean. You didn't have to leave…you could have told me you were busy—_

"_Shut up Sam. What do you want to talk about?" I asked casually, trying to subtly get to the bottom of the real purpose of this phone call, but in no rush to do so. I missed my little brother, and if he wanted to spend the next hour talking about the weather, I would do it. _

"_Anything. How are you?" Sam asked, his tone the same as it was when he first said my name, and it was getting to me. _

"_I'm good. Just finished up a hunt." I aimlessly filled Sam in on the hunt I just completed as I found the Impala and started driving back to my hotel._

"_You did it on your own?" Sam questioned quietly, and I hated that I could hear the guilt in his voice. _

"_Yeah, it was simple enough, so Dad went to take care of something." At the absence of any response I continued. "He's on his way back to town though, should be here by tomorrow afternoon." _

_My attempt to ease my little brother's fears seemed to work as I heard him release a relieved sigh from the other end of the phone. _

"_You don't have to worry about us Sammy. We can take care of ourselves." I assured. _

"_I know, but I prefer it when you take care of each other." Sam said. _

_I didn't have much of a response to that, but I wondered something._

"_That why you called man? You worried?" I asked. _

"_I'm always worried Dean." Sam admitted. _

_I understood that, because not a day went by where I didn't worry about my little brother. _

"_Well you shouldn't be. Me and Dad are all good here. You just worry about school and getting all A's." _

_Sam made no reply, so I continued. _

"_How are things going there? How's school?" I asked. _

"_It's fine. Busy." I gave my little brother time to elaborate, time which he did not utilize. _

"_Geez Sam, don't go in to too much detail." I mocked sarcastically. _

"_Sorry, I'm just tired." Sam replied, in a voice that reflected perfectly what he had said. _

"_Then go to sleep." I suggested simply. _

"_I will…just wanted to talk to you." _

"_That's it? You didn't call for any other reason?" I said, searching for the truth. _

"_I didn't know I needed another reason." Sam answered miserably. _

"_You don't. I just feel like there is something you're not telling me." _

_The silence I received from the other end confirmed my suspicions. _

"_You going to let me know what's going on?" _

_I waited patiently as I drove in the dark, absently glancing at the passenger seat, feeling the familiar pang of sadness that hit me every time I looked over and didn't see a skinny, shaggy-haired kid. _

"_I just wanted to talk, that's all." _

_I knew that he was lying and so did he. I also knew that if my little brother didn't want to share, he wasn't going to; he was such a stubborn little shit. But I could tell that he wasn't in danger, so I decided to let the matter slide, and just be glad that I was talking with my little brother. _

"_So talk. How are your classes going?" _

_We spent almost two hours discussing everything from school to sports, and even the weather. _

_I was reclined in bed at the motel talking to Sam when I noticed that it was almost four in the morning. _

"_Don't you have school tomorrow?" I inquired. _

"_Yeah." Sam released a long weary sigh; it seemed to me that the kid was doing a whole lot of sighing, evidence of his mood I supposed. _

"_Well don't you need to get some shuteye?" I asked genuinely curious. My brother always took school very seriously, and whenever it was possible he would always try to get enough sleep to be able to focus in class the next day. _

"_I guess so." Sam answered quietly. _

"_You don't want to be walking around like a zombie all day." _

"_I know, I have a day full of classes tomorrow…so I should probably get some rest." _

"_Good idea little brother." I said with a smile, somehow finding myself quite content that my little brother sounded as reluctant to hang up on me as I was to hang up on him. _

"_You ever need to talk again just give me a call. Okay Sammy?" I insisted, trying to make sure he understood that I was no more than a phone call away._

"_Yeah, thanks Dean." Sam whispered shyly._

"_Anytime little brother." I responded with a smile. _

_I was waiting to hear the click, never the one to hang up first when my kid was on the other end. I waited, still hearing him breathing. _

"_Sammy?" I asked after a moment. _

"_Dean…would you mind…uhh, if you could…" _

"_What is it Sam? Spit it out kid." I said, wondering what had my well-spoken little brother so tongue tied. _

"_Could you leave a voicemail on my phone?" The question was almost hard to hear, I could sense the young man's embarrassment from the other side of the phone. _

"_Why? I'm not following here Sam." I explained, trying to figure out what the kid was getting at. _

"_It's just…I need… could you please just do it Dean?" The young man stuttered out unsurely. _

"_You want me to leave you a voicemail on your phone?" _

"_Yeah." _

"_Okay, about what? What do you want me to say?" I asked in confusion. _

"_Anything…just…talk." _

_I gained a little more understanding from those three words. The voicemail wasn't about content, but just my voice. Maybe Sam is missing me almost as much as I'm missing him; maybe he just needs to hear my voice, but if that's the case…_

"_Sam, if you ever need to hear from me, just call." I suggested. _

"_I know…it's just I can't always call…and you might be busy…just… could you do it Dean. Please?" _

_I could practically see my kid staring at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes, and I caved like I always did when I could actually see that expression. _

"_Sure Sammy, no problem. I'll call after you hang up and leave you a message." I promised casually, as if this request wasn't completely strange. _

"_Thanks Dean." The relief in Sam's voice was all I needed to hear._

"_Don't mention it little brother." _

_Again I lay there listening to the man on the other end of the line breathing, waiting for him to hang up the phone. Minutes passed by and I could tell that Sam was tired, could hear it in his breathing pattern that sleep was pulling at him. _

"_Go to sleep Sammy." I ordered softly. _

"_Ok Dean." The quiet obedience was all the proof I needed to know that Sam was already half asleep. _

_He hung up shortly after. I waited for a moment before calling him back. Listening to it ring, at the beep I began to talk. I didn't say anything deep or emotional, I'm not a girl. _

_I just rambled on about the infomercial that was playing on the motel television. I mocked the stupidity of the product and went on a tangent about how nobody needs a magnetic toothbrush. I kept talking until the machine cut me off in the middle of my idea for a toothbrush that doubles as a razor. _

_I went to close my phone and turn in for the night, when I suddenly decided to redial. I got the machine again, I finished my thoughts on the convenience of an all-in-one bathroom tool, and then I ended on a more sentimental note. _

"_Goodnight Sammy." _

_Feeling satisfied, I closed my phone, putting it on my bedside table. As I moved around on the bed to get comfortable for the night, I turned and looked across the room at the bed furthest from the door. _

_For a second I could almost see a scrawny, long-limbed, shaggy-headed, little brother lying there. I fell asleep staring at the empty bed, wishing that it was occupied by my kid brother. _

_I did find some comfort in the fact that the kid was safe and he was at school and he was free of a life that he never wanted. I made a mental note to drop by Stanford and check in on the little brat next time I got the chance. _

_The last thought I had was of that chic I had left earlier. _

"_Hell yeah it was fucking worth it." I said aloud, as though Janice…Janet…Jane…whats-her-face, was in the room to hear my response. _

"_Sammy's always worth it."_

"Do you remember Dean?" The question brought me back and I looked up to see Sam staring at me intently.

"Yeah, I remember when you called. That was after a nightmare?" I asked.

"That was after a week of nightmares. I wasn't able to fall asleep, either out of fear of having one of those dreams, or because I had already woken up from one. I was averaging about two hours of sleep a night. I had tried everything: tea, music, reading, running, drinking. None of it worked."

"So you called me." I declared.

"Yeah, after talking to you I was able to fall asleep, that was the first night in a week I didn't dream of what happened." Sam finished quietly.

"So the voicemail? You used that to help you sleep?" I wondered aloud, just now piecing all of this together.

"Yeah. It was the only thing that worked, used it for a few weeks." Sam admitted.

"You could have just called me you know." I added after a moment of silence.

"I know." The young man sighed with a nod of his head.

"I just didn't want to bother you every night, and I knew you would be busy some times, and a lot of the time we weren't even in the same timezone." Sam explained.

"None of that matters Sammy. I still would have picked up." I swore, catching the kids eyes, so I was sure he believed me.

"I know Dean." Sam said with a soft smile.

I nodded my head, satisfied that he got the message.

Sam yawned tiredly.

"Dude you got to try and get some rest. You're still healing, you need it." I insisted, looking the tired kid over.

"I'm already healed Dean."

"Yeah? Want me to take another look at your back?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"It's just a few bruises."

"Ha! Did you forget that after that shifter kicked your ass we went to the clinic? And the doc said that you had two broken ribs and deep tissue damage and that those bruises go all the way down to your muscles. And that's just your torso. I'm not even going to bother listing all the other damage that my body double did to the rest of you. Unless you need me to?"

"No I'm good." Sam sulked.

"Good, now stop pretending that you aren't hurt. And get some sleep." I ordered.

"It's not that easy Dean."

"It is, you just close your eyes and stop talking. Your body is tired Sam, it'll do the rest for you."

"I know I'm going to dream of him tonight." Sam's haunted voice made me cringe.

"Maybe, but then you'll wake up, or I'll wake you up." I reasoned.

Sam looked up at me, his face full of fear and his posture exhibiting a certain unease.

"You can't deprive yourself of sleep because you're afraid of what you might see."

"No Dean, I am afraid of **who** I **will **see." Sam responded darkly.

I made to reply, to ease his fears and reassure the kid, but he spoke before I got that chance.

"You don't know what it's like man."

"I do Sammy, I told you a dreamt of what happened when I was younger."

"Yeah, but could you hear him? Could you see him overtop of you? Could you feel the ropes tearing at your skin? And the mattress springs digging in to your back? Can you smell his breath? And feel his hands?"

My body shuddered at the questions as well as the haunted tone in which they were delivered.

"Sorry Dean, I didn't mean to freak you out." Sam apologized, seeing my shudder.

"It's okay Sam. I didn't know they were that bad." I confessed softly. Never remembering ever having a dream that was so intense and detailed…and then realizing that Sam isn't just having nightmares, he's reliving a memory. His dreams were more real because they weren't so much dreams as a recollection of actual events.

"It's just… it's hard to go to sleep and know that he's going to be there." Sam explained softly.

I knew that I needed a new strategy. That just telling Sam to go to sleep wasn't going to work because his fear was too real and too strong.

"Let's go watch some tv." I suggested, standing from my bed.

"What? Weren't you just telling me to go to sleep?" Sam questioned, looking up at me in confusion.

"Yeah, but clearly that's not happening. So I don't see much point in just lying here all night. So let's go downstairs and see if we can find something to watch on one of Bobby's three channels." I said with a smile.

Sam looked up at me curiously and then simply shrugged, getting to his feet and following me out of the room.

Watching him shuffle slowly down the stairs I could tell how jacked up his back still was.

"You got take a seat. I'm going to grab a beer."

"Okay, grab me one to." Sam requested as he moved into the sitting room.

"Here." I said, handing Sam a can of pop as I sat down beside him on the couch holding my beer.

"Hey, why don't I get one?"

"Because you can't drink it with these." I informed him, pulling his pain meds from my pocket.

"I'm not taking those." Sam rejected immediately, leaning away from them as though they'd burn him.

"Why? I can tell your back is killing you Sam. And you are past due for a dose."

"They make me tired."

It dawned on me that obviously someone who was afraid to fall asleep would not want to take meds that make you drowsy.

I debated on what to do, on one hand my kid was physically hurting and these pills would make that stop and on another hand he was emotionally hurting and these pills would make it worse. I was at a crossroads, and no direction seemed very promising. So I let Sam make his own decision. It was hard for me, but the kid decided that he would rather deal with the physical pain to avoid the emotional, so I would back him up on that…for now.

I made no comment as I dropped the pills on the wooden coffee table and leaned back against the couch sipping on my beer.

Sam watched me for a moment, seemingly surprised that I had dropped the matter so easily.

"Just like that?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Just like that." I confirmed with a nod.

Sam gazed at me quizzically before simply shrugging and turning his attention to the old western movie playing on the tv.

I watched him as he watched the screen, the room was dark but the glow of the television allowed me to see the fading bruises on his face and neck, as well as the pale pallor of his face, and the dark rings beneath his eyes.

I was going to have to find a way to help the kid get some rest. I had always been able to chase away his nightmares in the past, even when I didn't know that I was doing so. So I was sure as hell going to find a way to do it again; even though these nightmares were different…dark memories, rather than an angry imagination.

As I watched Sam tiredly lean on his side against the couch, avoiding any sort of contact being made with his messed up back, I vowed that I would find a way to make this better, to fix it.

I would find a way to help my brother heal both physically and emotionally from all the pain he was in.

That perverted bastard had hurt my little brother enough; there is no fucking way I am going to allow that son of a bitch to continue to haunt my kid from the grave.

No Fucking Way.

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><p>Note: Please reviewcomment if you have a second. I would greatly appreciate it. I want to keep adding to this story, but it is good to know that people like it before I write more.

Thanks for reading! - Sam


	3. Chapter 3

Note: This is a bit of a transitional chapter, so sorry it's not quite as long or as eventful as usual. I should be studying for my multitude of mid-terms...but I just can't seem to do anything but write.

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><p>I woke up to the soft mummer of the TV. I groggily opened my eyes, noticing that I was lying back on Bobby's old couch. There was a pillow shoved under my head and a blanket draped over my body, two things that hadn't been there last night.<p>

I felt a weight on my feet and I raised my head to see Sam at the other end of the couch, he had my feet pulled up onto his lap and a book opened across my legs. I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that the kid hadn't slept a wink. I let out a long sigh and dropped my head back onto the pillow.

"Good morning sunshine." Sam mocked. I could practically see that smirk on his face as I threw up my middle finger in response.

"I put some coffee on, should be ready soon."

I groaned as I rolled over, kicking Sam's book onto the floor.

"Nice Dean." He said.

I displayed my favourite finger again as I stared lazily at the television.

Sam snickered as he shoved my feet off his lap, I groaned loudly as they hit the ground.

"You coming to the kitchen or you want me to bring your coffee in here?" My brother asked, climbing to his feet.

I moaned in response, pushing my face back into the pillow and silently cursing the morning.

Sam just chuckled as he left the room, coming back a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee in his hands.

"Here." He said, holding the steaming beverage in front of my face.

I grunted loudly as I slowly sat up and took the mug.

We sipped at our coffee, Sam still reading his latest book, while I absent-mindedly stared at whatever old cop show was playing on TV.

"You boys sleep alright?" Bobby asked as he walked into the room holding his own cup of joe.

I grunted in response.

"Dean's not much for words in the morning." Sam explained, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Some things never change." Bobby commented as he sat down heavily in the recliner opening up the paper.

The comfortable silence was broken a few minutes later when Sam placed his mug on the coffee table and got to his feet.

"I'm going to go grab a shower."

I noticed he was still wearing the zip-up sweater that he had put on yesterday, so he shouldn't need my help, but just in case I looked up at him with the question on my face.

Sam quirked a small smile and shook his head, giving me a gentle pat on the shoulder, saying he was good without actually having to use any words.

"Did he get any rest at all?" Bobby asked, once we heard the sound of running water.

"No." I sighed loudly.

"You going to let me in on what's going on?" The older man asked, looking at me intently over the newspaper.

I kept my gaze on the television. Part of me wanted to fill Bobby in, the man deserved to know what the deal was. But I didn't think it was my story to tell. I didn't know if Sam would be okay with Bobby knowing the truth, that and I didn't think I'd be able to dictate the memory without trashing the entire house.

Bobby took my lack of response as the answer it was.

"Well if you ever want to fill me in, I'll be around." The hunter mumbled, focussing his attention back on the newspaper in his hand.

I was saved from having to give any sort of response when I heard a loud bang coming from upstairs. Not a 'Sam dropped something' bang, but a loud 'the night table fell over' kind of bang.

"What the hell?" Bobby questioned. I booked it for the stairs, hearing the older man following behind.

"Hey Sammy? You alright man?" I yelled out, pounding on the bathroom door.

My brother's only reply was a loud grunt, and that just didn't cut it for me.

"I'm coming in." Was my only warning before I swung the door open.

The water was no longer running, but the shower curtain and the rod that had once held it up were laying on top of my little brother, who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Sammy!" I called out

"I'm alright Dean." I heard him grumble, as he moved around underneath the curtain.

I went to lift the rod off him, but stopped at Sam's order.

"Wait Dean…could you grab me a towel first." He suggested, awkwardly holding the shower curtain over his lower body.

"You're such a prude Sam, it's not like I've never seen your junk before." I mocked, grabbing Sam's towel off the counter and tossing it onto my embarrassed little brother.

Sam scrunched up his face in a scowl as he covered himself with the towel. I took the moment to lean out the bathroom door.

"I got this covered Bobby. Besides I doubt that Sam would want you to see him in his birthday suit."

"Shut up Dean!" The young man hollered from inside the bathroom.

I smirked at the response as Bobby made his way back down the stairs, muttering something about stupid Winchesters always trying to give him a heart attack.

"You all covered up there princess?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the comment, shifting around uncomfortably on the floor.

I softened my voice and stopped the mocking, seeing the lines of pain in my little brother's face.

"I'm going to pull this off you, Okay?" I warned, getting a grip on the curtain rod and waiting for Sam's nod before lifting the object off of him and carelessly tossing it out into the hallway.

Sam held the towel around his waist as he rolled onto his side, allowing me to get a grip on his elbows and help pull him to a standing position.

He groaned as he got to his feet and I winced hearing his back crack loudly, maintaining a grip on the kid's elbows as I waited for him to find his footing.

"Do you need to sit?" I asked, noticing that the he was still unsteady.

The young man nodded in response and I guided him over to the toilet, closing the lid with my foot and gently pushing Sam to sit down, which he did with a pained moan.

"What the hell happened?" I wondered after giving the kid a moment to catch his breath.

"It's nothing I'm fi—

"Fine, yeah right. That's why you fell down and brought part of the shower with you." I grumbled, raising an eyebrow at my baby brother and waiting for the truth.

"I just lost my balance, got a little dizzy. Went to grab the curtain to keep from falling…didn't really work out." Sam explained slowly through clenched teeth.

"Your back?" I questioned quietly, wanting to know the source of the kid's apparent pain. Not at all surprised by the dizziness, that's what happens when you refuse to get any sleep.

Sam nodded, shifting around uneasily.

"Let me take a look." I said, angling Sam to the side so I could get a clear view of what we were dealing with.

His back had improved immensely since that shifter kicked his ass over a week ago, but it was still pretty messed up. Most of the bruises had faded into a greenish-yellow tinge, but there were still several clusters of black bruising. I couldn't see any new damage, but I knew taking a hard fall with this much bruising, not to mention his barely recovered ribs, would hurt like hell.

"Anything specific?" I asked, as I surveyed the damage.

"No…just sort of all over." Sam bit out, shifting around some more.

"Well it doesn't look like you've done anything new. But you sure managed to aggravate all the old damage." I reported, looking over all the colourful skin.

"Great." Sam muttered sarcastically, grabbing onto the counter as he made to stand. He gasped loudly and hunched once he was on his feet.

"Take it easy kiddo. Take it easy." I ordered gently as I grasped the arm that wasn't currently gripping the countertop.

I maintained a steadying hold of my little brother's elbow as he shuffled into our shared bedroom.

Sam allowed me to support him on the way back to the bedroom.

I left Sam slumped over on the bed as I went to his duffle and pulled out some clean clothes, some clean, easy to put on clothes.

Setting the sweatpants, boxers, and zip-up sweater beside the young man I waited for a reassuring nod before leaving the room and giving the self-conscious kid the privacy he had always insisted on.

Sam came shuffling out of the room a few minutes later, his gate slow but steady.

"You sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?"

My little brother shook his head in response and began making his way down the stairs.

"Alright then… I'll just be up here…cleaning up your mess." I hollered after Sam, smiling at the polite gesture I got in return, the same one I'd given him when he woke me up this morning. I watched to make sure he got safely down the steps…I might be mother-henning a little bit, but I can hardly be blamed for that…after all the brat had just managed to get hurt taking a freakin shower.

My kid spent the rest of the day in pain. I could see it in his eyes, his posture, and written all over his expression and it killed me that I couldn't do shit.

No matter how many times I begged him Sammy refused to take the meds, terrified of the horrors he knew were waiting for him in his dreams.

All desire to find an easy hunt seemed to be lost, whether it was because of the horrific memory that had been thrown back in his face just yesterday, or the pain in his back, I wasn't sure.

Once evening hit, Bobby and I were sitting on the porch watching Sam wander aimlessly around the lot, because he was unable to sit or stand still for too long before the pain became too much. I decided to call up the doc. He had given me his contact info when I had taken Sammy into the clinic after the shifter had messed him up; somehow he had known we'd need his help again.

"What'd the doctor say?" Bobby asked once I hung up the phone and dropped back into the chair next to his.

"Said that Sam's back isn't going to get better unless he takes those meds."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, looking at me to continue with the explanation.

"As long as Sam is in pain, his muscles will be tense, and eventually his back will seize up. When that happens the doc says the kid is going to be in a whole world of agony."

We sat in silence, watching as Sam took another sluggish lap around the shop.

"Is there no other way to get rid of the pain?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"No, the doc said over the counter drugs probably won't cut it, and pretty much all muscle relaxants make you drowsy anyways."

"And sleep isn't an option?" The older hunter questioned, making it clear that he had no idea why, but he'd appreciate being brought up to speed.

"Yeah, sleeps off the table." I said dismissively.

"Nightmares?"

"Something like that." I shrugged, not wanting to go into detail; feeling as though I would be betraying Sam by sharing his traumatic experience.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know Bobby." I sighed honestly. My eyes tracking Sam, trying to think how the hell I was going to convince him to take meds when we both knew the emotional pain it would bring him.

We sat in silence a few more minutes.

"He would kill us if he knew we were just sitting here creeping on him." I stated absent-mindedly.

Bobby smirked in agreement, but neither of us bothered to take our eyes off the kid wondering aimlessly and uneasily through the maze of broken down vehicles.

I forced Sam to choke down half a BLT for dinner, which he did sitting sideways on the kitchen chair, squirming around like he used to do as a child. I always used to make fun of the kid, saying that the phrase 'ants in your pants' had been made up just for him.

After dinner Sam gave up on trying to walk-off the pain and resigned himself to spend the evening lying on that old couch and staring miserably at the TV.

"Lie on your stomach." I ordered abruptly during the third episode of Bonanza.

Sam sent me a confused look, his face telling me he was not interested in playing games.

"Just trust me Sammy." I added softly.

My kid looked me over quizzically before releasing a long put-upon sigh and rolling slowly onto his front, head turned to the left so he could continue to stare at the television.

I pulled out the heating packs that I had run out to pick up during the second episode of the cowboy show and then quickly heated in Bobby's ancient microwave.

I tugged Sam's sweater up.

"What the hell you—

Before he could finish his bitching my little brother released a long relieved sigh at the feel of the heating pack placed between his shoulder blades.

I placed the second one in the middle of the colourful back, and the last one I set across the kid's lower back.

Sam was completely still for the first time all day, not squirming or twitching in discomfort.

"The heat should help your muscles relax, which isn't going to get rid of the pain, but it should ease it." I informed the young man resting on the couch, pulling his sweater back down over the packs.

"It's not too hot is it?" I asked as a delayed thought. The info on the package had said that the heating packs may be too hot with direct skin contact and that a thin layer of clothing may be necessary for the most comfortable use. But I didn't think trying to maneuver my brother into a t-shirt would be the most pain free option.

"No it's perfect." Sam sighed tiredly.

"You should try and get some rest." I requested, leaning over the back of the couch to slide some of that ridiculous hair off my brother's forehead.

Sam shook his head immediately.

"Come on buddy, you can't stay awake forever." I said, making my way around the couch to squat before the young man.

"I know, I'm just… I'm not ready to see him." Sam muttered, casting his eyes down in shame.

I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to argue that or comfort the kid. What I did know is that I couldn't lie to my baby brother and tell him that he wouldn't see that son of bitch in his dreams. I combed my fingers through his hair a couple more times before sliding my hand behind his head and squeezing the back of his neck. Sam allowed me a small smile before returning his attention to the riveting TV playing out behind me.

I was content with the relief brought on by the heating packs…but it was short-lived. I woke up no more than an hour later, from where I had been sprawled in the recliner, registering instantly the soft whimpering coming from the lanky form stretched out on the couch.

"Sammy?" I asked, groggily stumbling out of the chair and dropping to my knees next to the couch.

I stared into my little brother's face, seeing the tears sneaking out from underneath his eyelids. His eyes were closed and his jaw clenched as he fought to control the pain, but his trembling body told me that he was on the losing end of the battle.

I pulled up his sweater, removing the still-warm heating packs and tossing them aside. Laying my hand gently on his back I could feel his muscle violently quivering underneath my touch. I knew instantly that what the doc warned would happen was happening. His back was seizing.

The doc said it would hurt like hell, and it's clear that he was right. The already injured muscles were going through aggressive spasms and the tension was doing nothing but bringing pain upon my baby brother.

"You got to take the meds Sam." I begged, literally on my knees, the kids face held between my hands.

Sam shook his head, biting his lip, but still unable to keep from releasing a pained sob.

"Sammy please!" I implored, swiping the trailing tears away with my thumb as those big watery hazel eyes stared desperately into mine.

"I'll be right here little brother. I won't leave you. I'll wake you up if things get bad. But you have to take the meds Sammy." I insisted.

"I…I don't wanna…wanna see him De." Sam choked out, the agony and emotion making his voice crack in ways that broke my heart.

"It'll be okay Sammy. Even if he's there, I'll wake you up if you start having a nightmare. I'll be right here." I promised. My gravelly voice was cracking with emotion as Sam inhaled shakily the fear and pain in his eyes palpable as I watched the debate going on in his mind.

At Sam's timid nod, I released a relieved breath I hadn't known I was holding.

I grabbed the meds from where I left them last night on the coffee table and rushed to get water.

I shook two pills into my hand and presented them quickly to my little brother, eager to get him to swallow them before he had time to change his mind.

"Just one." Sam whispered shakily, taking one of the pills from my hand and chasing it down with a sip of water.

I hoped the young man's strategy would work; that half the dose would be enough to take the edge off without entrapping the kid in night-terrors.

"Just try to relax Sammy." I encouraged, putting the water and meds aside as I gently dragged my fingers through his girly hair.

It didn't take long before Sam's muscles stopped quivering, his body relaxing as the pill took effect, but the fear never left his eyes as he stared into mine.

I tried to look at ease, reassuring him that he would be okay and murmuring other meaningless promises.

My little brother's blinking became slower, his eyelids growing heavier. I could see him struggling to open his eyes, and the last glimpse I got of those hazel orbs before the kid was pulled into sleep, was a look of total fear. My insides ached as I watched a single tear slide out from under the closed eyelids as I listened to Sam's breathing even out and he sunk into a state of rest.

I swiped the tear away with my thumb and then took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch, keeping my promise to stay close.

I watched Sam sleep for hours. Thankful that Bobby went up to bed early tonight, because I didn't need an audience to witness my obsessive mothering. I stared at my sleeping little brother, worrying about the lack of movement. Sam had never been a still sleeper and while I knew the meds were probably the reason for the change, it still unnerved me. I was terrified that Sam was trapped in a nightmare and the pill he took was making it impossible for him to display his distress. It was three hours later when I was dozing on the floor still leaning against the couch, when I learned that Sam could indeed display his distress.

He began to shift about, his movements becoming more spasmodic and nothing I did was calming his actions or panicked breathing. I combed my fingers through Sam's long hair, I squeezed the back of his neck, I rubbed his chest, and none of it helped in the least.

I became desperate to wake the kid once he began to whimper. I no longer bothered trying to calm him in his restful state; I now wanted to pull him out of sleep. I grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him gently.

"Sam! Snap out of it man!" I hollered when he did not wake.

"Sammy!" I pleaded loudly, roughly shaking my little brother.

The young man's eyes flew open as he jerked awake.

"Hey buddy. It's me. It's just me!" I reassured.

But Sam didn't need any convincing. The kid immediately recognized me and was throwing himself into my arms before I had time to brace myself.

I fell off balance from where id' been hunched over the couch and collapsed backwards onto the floor right on my ass with my little brother's arms wrapped tightly around me.

Sam body was trembling as he held onto me, his arms around my neck as he buried his face into my shoulder. He shook and cried and held onto me just as hard as he had all those years ago, back when he was just a little ten year-old boy scared and traumatized.

I held him just as tightly as I had back then, whispering the same reassurances in his ear. Promising him he was safe, that I was here, and that I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.

"I've got you Sammy." I soothed, placing one hand on the back of my kid brother's neck and another hand on top of his head, being careful to avoid his bruises.

We sat like that until Sam's cries became whimpers and his whimpers turned into barely stuttered breathing as he made an effort to collect himself.

The young man slowly released the death-grip he had had on the back of my shirt and eased himself back so that he was no longer practically sitting in my lap.

Sam looked down, his cheeks taking on a tinge of red as he avoided my gaze, clearly feeling embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it little brother." I encouraged, knowing exactly what kind of self-deprecating thoughts were running through the kid's head.

Sam nodded distractedly as he continued to look at anything but me.

"I'm…uuhh..I'm gonna go grab a shower." The young man mumbled after a moment, climbing clumsily to his feet.

"You sure that's a good idea? How's your back?" I asked as I stood.

"Just a little soar, the meds are still working." Sam bit out miserably, his disdain for the medicine unmistakably clear.

"You sure you don't want to lie down. Maybe catch a little more shut-eye while your back is relatively pain free?" I asked hopefully, but already knowing the answer.

Sam bit his bottom lip and fervently shook his head, turning towards the stairs.

"Sam, dude you just showered this morning." I reminded the kid, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to go back to sleep, but hoping that he'd just sit and relax for a minute…maybe he'd talk about his nightmare.

"I know…but I feel…his hands were…I just… I need to get clean." Sam stuttered out, his watery, agony-filled hazel eyes coming to meet mine for a short second before quickly moving away.

"Okay." I choked out, past the lump that had appeared in my throat.

Sam sent me a small empty smile that was probably meant to make me feel better, but the haunted look on his face seared into my heart.

I watched as Sam sluggishly ascended the steps to the second floor.

Once I heard the water running I cursed loudly and kicked the coffee table, flipping it over, not caring when I watched the pills fly and heard the glass shatter.

I hated feeling useless. I hated that I couldn't fix this. I hated that I didn't know how to help my baby brother. I hated that I ever let that pedophile get his hands on Sammy. I hated that after over a decade of years had passed, that bastard was still haunting Sam.

I fucking loathed that that dead son of a bitch was still causing my kid so much pain.

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><p>Note: Please reviewcomment! I love to hear what you guys think. Thanks so much for reading! - Sam


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Thanks so much for the comments guys! I really appreciate your reviews. I hope you all enjoy my version of intense procrastination...I will get to my schoolwork...eventually.

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><p>"You throwing a fit?"<p>

I looked over my shoulder at the older hunter who had entered the room; following his pointed gaze to the upturned coffee table and the shatter glass littering the floor.

I made no response, simply shaking my head and running my hand through my hair. My emotions not yet in check enough for me to give any sort of reasonable reply.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on down here? Why your little brother is taking a shower and you're breaking shit at three in the bloody morning?" Bobby's voice was gruff and his tone frustrated, but concern was written all over his face.

I was unable to think up an answer so instead I returned the table to an upright position and took hold of the broom that Bobby handed me.

"So I'm guessing this melt down of yours is about the thing that you two are hiding from me?"

"We aren't hiding anything Bobby, it's just…" I faded off, not sure how to properly describe the situation.

"It's just there's something that you guys aren't telling me." The older man stated bluntly.

I shrugged, unable to argue with the accuracy of the statement.

I looked up from sweeping, feeling the hunter's gaze on me, it was clear he was waiting for some sort of explanation…an explanation I was unable to provide.

"Look Bobby I…I just…it's messed up." I finished tiredly.

"I can see that." He grunted.

"We're not trying to keep you out of the loop here man. It's just not something we can really discuss." I sighed, entirely aware of how lame that sounded.

"Boy, I'm not trying to pull teeth here. But whatever the hell is going on you better fix it before you two destroy my house and triple my water bill." Bobby muttered as he turned to leave, the older man realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with us 'damn idjits' tonight.

By the time I had cleaned up my mess Sam was making his way back down the stairs. The ease of his movements and droopiness of his eyes suggested that the meds were still at work. My little brother wandered over and dropped slowly down onto the coach, staring absently at the blank television.

"Hey man." I said, taking a seat on the coffee table, facing Sam, our knees almost touching.

"How you doing?"

"I'm alright." Sam rasped, still avoiding eye-contact.

I nodded, knowing a lie when I saw it, but not bothering to poke at the exhausted young man.

"I think we are going to have to let Bobby in on what's going on here Sam."

Before I even had the full sentence out the kid was adamantly shaking his head.

"No, no Dean. No way." My little brother declared, his head still moving from left to right.

"Sam." I sighed.

"No Dean. Just no." My brother dismissed.

"He's got to know what's going on…" I tried.

"No." Sam argued, an accusing glance flashing my way quickly before it returned to glare back at the tv.

"I'm not saying we tell him everything, just—

"Just what? That I was taken? Tied to a bed? That some pedophile took pictures of me before he…before he…he mol-molested me." Sam choked out, tears streaming down his face as his desperate eyes stared up at mine.

Molested…we had never said the word, not once.

It was what happened, there was no denying that…but the word had never been vocalized.

There was something wrong about it, something so dark and painful hidden within the letters of that god-awful word.

And hearing it now made me feel sick, my mouth went dry and my stomach flipped violently.

"Dean?" Sam croaked just as I felt bile rising up my throat.

I stumbled from the room, hearing Sam calling my name as I bent over the sink just in time to watch my insides splatter into it.

"Awe shit Dean, I'm sorry." Sam muttered, coming to stand next to me.

I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, but I was too busy puking my guts out.

I clenched the edge of the counter as my entire body arched in the effort to purge itself of all remaining stomach contents.

After a few minutes of constant hurling, I was given a moment of reprieve to catch my breath, straightening to a more upright position as I inhaled deeply.

"I'm so sorry man." My little brother mumbled as he placed a cool washcloth on the back of my neck.

I wanted to tell the kid to cut it with the apologies, but I didn't have time, already feeling the hot acidic liquid burning its way back up my esophagus.

I leaned back over the sink and continued to hack, spewing more bile from my mouth, my stomach seemingly empty.

I felt Sam's hand rubbing gently up and down my back, something I had done for him on numerous occasions.

I spit the nasty taste from my mouth, catching my breath as I waited to see if this was the end or simply an intermission.

"Stop petting me Sam, I'm not a dog." I ground out, grabbing the wet cloth from my neck and sliding it over my sweaty face, rubbing it over my mouth before dropping it onto the counter.

"Sorry…it always makes me feel better…" The young man mumbled dejectedly, immediately removing his hand from my back.

"There are some tricks that only work on little brothers." I commented in a softer tone, not wanting to make Sam feel badly.

"Here, sit down." My brother said, pulling a chair out from the table and ushering me into it.

"I'm fine Sammy, stop fussing." I huffed, dropping into the chair.

"Drink this." Sam ordered gently, handing me a bottle of water.

"Small sips." He added as I unscrewed the cap. I rolled my eyes, because who does this kid think always told him to do that when the roles were reversed, which was usually the case. I can't even remember the last time I barfed; I had never had a sensitive stomach. I also had a rock-solid immune system; Sammy was the one always catching every bug that came around.

I took a few swallows, relishing the soothing feel of the cool water on my throat and letting it wash away the disgusting taste lingering in my mouth.

"I shouldn't have said that, don't know why I did. Sorry Dean." Sam mumbled, big hazel eyes staring at me imploringly.

"Don't worry about it Sam, it's not your fault." I insisted, looking up at the kid nervously shifting around in front of me.

"Yeah man it is. I don't know why I didn't shut up. Your face went so pale…don't know why I kept talking." My little brother cursed himself, looking away from me in frustration.

"It's fine Sammy. It is not your fault." I called out over the young man.

I mean sure I hadn't been ready for the kid to drop the 'm' word…but it was hardly his fault I was so damn sensitive.

"Yeah Dean it is—

"It's just a word! It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You just puked in the sink."

"Yeah Sam I remember, I was there. Just drop it!" I snapped, annoyed as much with my own pathetic behaviour as I was with Sam's stupid guilt complex.

I regretted my harsh reaction as I watched Sam visibly shrink, taking a step back as moved his gaze to the floor.

I was trying to think of something to say that would make this shitty situation better, but nothing came to mind. Instead I released a loud yawn and rubbed at me eyes. All that heaving had taken the little energy I had. I yawned again, feeling exhaustion settle over me.

"You should get some rest." Sam whispered shyly, clearly nervous about pissing me off.

"Yeah maybe." I sighed.

"Come on." Sam said tugging gently at my sleeve.

I nodded reluctantly and climbed to my feet, my little brother maintained a light grasp above my elbow all the way to the couch. I didn't really need the physical support. I wasn't unsteady on my feet or anything, but I felt maybe the contact was more for him than me, so I made a conscious effort not to shake it off.

I sat heavily on to the couch, irritated with how tired I was. The few hours of sleep I got last night and the night before that, were not nearly enough to keep me going.

"How are you still on your feet?" I grumbled, falling sideways and pulling my legs up onto the couch.

"I've had a little more experience with insomnia than you have." Sam chuckled.

I found nothing funny in the statement.

"You should sleep." I mumbled, stretching out on the furniture.

"Maybe later." Sam responded as he spread a blanket out over top of me.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, cracking my eyes open and looking up at the sasquatch leaning over me, making sure that every inch of my body was covered by the blanket.

"Clean up the mess you left in the sink and then I'll find something else to do." Sam shrugged.

I kept an eye on him, needing to know for sure what the plan was, because I wouldn't be able to get any sleep if I was worrying about the brat going off and getting into trouble.

I watched as understanding dawned on Sam's face, a small smile bringing out his dimples.

"I'll be right here Dean." He said, nodding towards the recliner where the book he had had his nose in earlier was now resting.

"Good." I responded, letting my eyelids fall closed.

Another thought came to me as I heard Sam moving away and I slid my hand out to stop him, grabbing hold of his knee.

"Dean?" He asked, stopping and looking down at me.

"Not your fault." I muttered, giving Sam's knee a squeeze before releasing my grip.

"I shouldn't have—

"Don't Sam." I cut him off, pulling my head up and twisting around to give him a serious look.

"Stop apologizing." I ordered, waiting for the nod before lying back down on the pillow.

"You were just stating the facts. It's me who couldn't handle it." I finished, closing my eyes, sleep pulling at me.

I felt long fingers rest against my shoulder for a moment before disappearing.

"Sometimes I forget that you're hurting just as much as I am." I heard the sentence through the fog in my brain, but I was too far gone to form a reply.

My sleep was anything but restful. I was trapped in a never-ending replay of what happened to my little brother all those years ago. I was seeing him tied down and trapped underneath that son of a bitch and nothing I did made a difference. I tried to scream at him, tried to attack him, even pulled the trigger on the gun, filling that bastard with bullets, but he still didn't stop, didn't get off my baby brother.

Fucking nightmares.

I was pulled from the dark dream by someone yelling my name.

"Dean! Dean get your ass in here!"

I was startled awake, knowing the owner of that voice to be the older hunter, and wondering why the hell the man was hollering at me.

"Dean!"

"I'm coming." I groaned, rolling off the coach and stumbling to my feet, heading in the direction of the voice.

"What the hell you screaming about old man?" I asked as I made me way to the kitchen.

I entered the room, Bobby standing by the door with his back to me, and I could just see Sam's shaggy head behind the hunter.

"Hey Sam, Dean's here. It's alright son."

Bobby's gruff voice was hushed as he held his hands up by his sides, looking as though he was trying not to spook the kid.

I was instantly on alert.

"What's going on?" I asked, approaching the pair.

Bobby looked over at me, his face full of confusion as his eyes met mine in concern.

"Mailman came to the door to drop of a package, Sam opened it…and then he just froze up." Bobby summarized, glancing between me and my little brother who had not yet made a sound.

I nodded and moved past the older man.

As I approached I could see Sam shaking, his form hunched, hair covering his eyes as he looked down at a book that was clutched in his hands.

"What is it Sammy? What's going on?" I asked, stepping within arm's reach of the kid.

Sam remained unresponsive, as he kept his gaze directed down to the object trapped in his trembling hands.

Whatever the hell was going on it had something to do with that book.

I reached forward, grabbing hold of the hardcover and tugging at it, attempting to slide it from my brother's fingers.

Sam shook his head, tightening his grip on the book.

"Come on buddy, let me see it." I encouraged softly, watching as Sam slowly released his hold on the object.

"That's it Sammy." I said, pulling the book from his hands and giving it a glance.

I was caught completely off guard by what I saw.

And I dropped the object to the ground, as though it was poison, and in some way…it was.

The dinosaur book.

The fucking dinosaur book.

I hadn't seen it since that night, that night Sam had sat at the diner with his face buried with in its pages.

It hadn't been in his backpack, I had just figured that it had been left at the diner we never returned to.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned behind me, probably confused as hell.

But now was not the time for an explanation, not when my little brother was quaking in fear right before me.

"Hey, Sammy. It's alright man. He's gone. That fucker's dead. He's not going to touch you." I reassured the young man, moving to stand in front of Sam, ducking into his line of sight.

Sam nodded his head but at the same moment, his legs gave out.

"Whooah Sammy." I grunted, catching the lanky kid and easing his descent to the ground, following him down and squatting before him.

Sam was trembling, his breathing fast and stuttered as he looked up at me with wide frightened eyes.

I recognized the situation instantly. I had seen it before; mind you it was many years ago, the last time Sam must have been all of fourteen. I hated it just as much now as I did then.

Panic attack.

"Alright man. Look at me Sam." I ordered, knowing that calm was key for this.

Terrified eyes surveyed the room frantically before coming to rest on mine.

"Keep your eyes on me." I stated clearly, watching Sam struggle to keep his gaze from wondering.

After a moment of eye-contact I knew that we had to work on the breathing before the kid hyperventilated and ended up passed out on the floor.

"Deep breath." I said.

Sam tried, but it was shaky and stuttered.

"Try again buddy." I insisted.

Sam took another unsteady inhale, but it was deeper than the one before it. He held it for a second before letting it back out.

"Doing great Sammy, keep going." I encouraged.

My little brother tried to regain control of himself, his eyes on me, his body shaking, but his breathing beginning to even out.

That was until Bobby cleared his throat.

I'll give the man credit and say it wasn't all that loud and it wasn't meant to attract attention. Bobby knew better than most people not to interrupt or intervene when I was taking care of my little brother.

But the sound he made was just loud enough to remind Sam that we weren't alone.

The young man flinched violently at the noise, jerking back. His breathing twice the speed it had been before as he struggled to move and get away.

"No! No Sammy!" I called out, grabbing hold of the kid's hands as he tried to shove away from me, while he looked wildly around the room, searching for the threat.

"It's just Bobby, Sam. It's just Bobby." I informed the frightened man as he struggled.

"Sam! Stop!" I ordered loudly.

Big mistake.

Sam Winchester has never responded well to orders.

Sam ripped his hands from my grasp and scrambled backwards until he hit the wall. He looked up between me and Bobby and all around the room. I knew he was searching for an escape, and when he didn't find one he curled in on himself.

Bobby looked over at me, shocked to see a young man he knew to be so strong, curled in a ball and rocking back and forth.

"Ah shit." I cursed, because this was the exact situation I had been trying to avoid.

"Bobby could you—

"Let me know if you need anything." Bobby stated earnestly, making his way out of the room.

Bobby always understood. He understood Sam and he understood me and he knew how we operated, and best of all he knew when to back the fuck off.

"Hey buddy." I whispered, squatting down before the terrified man.

"It's just you and me here Sammy. Just the two of us." I assured gently, waiting and watching as my little brother peeked out from where he was hidden behind his arms, glancing around the room.

Realizing I was telling the truth Sam uncurled just a little.

"You need to calm down little brother." I said, listening to his rapid breathing.

"C-ca-can't." Sam stuttered.

"Yes you can." I promised, moving closer.

"Just look at me." I said, placing my hand on Sam's chin and gently guiding it up so his eyes were on mine.

"Good." I forced a smile.

"Now a deep breath, hold it for a couple seconds, then out nice and slow."

Sam tried and failed.

"Come on little brother, we've done this before." I remarked, recalling the few times when he was younger that Sam reacted this way to the abrupt reminder of what was done to him that night when he was just a boy.

I took Sam's hand, trying not to notice how it shook, and placed it on my chest, covering it with mine.

"Like me Sam." I said, taking a slow deep breath and holding it, watching as the kid copied me.

We exhaled together; Sam's was shakier than mine, but definite improvement.

"Good, that's good. Now let's do it again."

Sam nodded and duplicated my actions.

"That's my boy, you got this." I smiled a few minutes later when his breathing was finally under control.

"See that wasn't so hard." I joked softly, running a hand through Sam's shaggy hair, sliding those stupid bangs off his forehead.

Sam's eyes moved from mine, and his entire body tensed as he stared at the book I'd dropped onto the floor.

"Hey man, don't worry about that." I admonished softly, placing a hand on the right side of his face and turning his head back towards me.

"But Dean…he—

"Don't worry about him. Don't even think about him Sammy. That bastard is dead."

"The how—

"We will worry about that later." I dismissed, not wanting to send my little brother back into a panic attack.

Sam took a moment to consider and then nodded in agreement. His eyes locked onto the amulet dangling from my neck, his body finally relaxing as he reached up to graze his fingers over it.

I smiled fondly at the child-like gesture.

"I'm sorry Dean." The apology was whispered in shame as two puppy dog eyes stared up at me, brimming with tears.

"Shut-up Sammy." I responded, voice thick with emotion as I placed a hand on the back of my kid brother's neck and pulled him towards me.

Sam was still shaking like a leaf as his body came to rest against mine, his long arms wrapping around me, gripping the back of my shirt as he buried his face into my shoulder.

I combed my fingers through my little brother's hair as I was careful not to put too much pressure on his back, knowing that the meds have probably worn off by now.

"Don't ever apologize for this kind of shit." I ordered quietly right into my kid's ear.

I felt Sam nod against me as he bit back a sob.

"You're okay man. I've got you." I promised, unwilling to let go of Sammy long enough to wipe the tears I could feel trailing down my face.

We stayed that way until we had both gained some degree of composure.

Then Sam began to squirm in discomfort, sitting huddled on the hard floor obviously not agreeing with his damaged back.

"How about we get off the floor now." I suggested with a smirk.

Sam nodded in agreement, allowing me to pull away from him and grip his forearms helping him to his feet.

"You okay?" I asked as I released my grip on my little brother, my hands still hovering close by in case the kid lost his balance.

"Yeah…I uuhh, I just can't stop shaking." Sam muttered, staring down at his trembling hands and arms.

"Just give it some time." I soothed.

"Here sit down. I'm going to make you some of that girly tea you drink." I said, watching Sam smirk as he slowly took a seat; the distance between his back and the chair making it clear that his injuries were bothering him again.

"Does Bobby have tea?" I asked, opening up all the cupboards.

"It's over the microwave." The response was dry and distracted.

I looked over and followed Sam's sightline.

Kid was staring at that fucking book again.

I stalked over and picked up the hardcover, struggling to stop the repulsive shiver from travelling through my body at the sight of it.

"Dean."

I ignored the call, marching over to the door, opening it up and chucking the book as far as I could.

Without bothering to look where it landed I turned around, slamming the door closed and walking casually back to the counter. I ignored Sam's eyes on me as I waited for the water to boil, pulling out a mug and setting the teabag inside it.

I made the tea in silence, pouring in the hot water, a drop of honey, and a splash of milk.

"Here you go." I said, placing the steaming mug in front of Sam.

"Thanks." He muttered, wrapping his long fingers around it and breathing in the steam before taking a long sip.

I took a seat across from my brother, watching him drink his tea, dreading the conversation I knew I was going to have to start.

"Sam, we are going to have to—

"Tell Bobby, I know." The kid completed for me with a sigh.

We sat in silence, Sam looking pensive as I watched him intently.

"How much does he have to know?" Sam whispered, looking down into his cup as though it held the answers for him.

"I don't know." I said honestly.

"We are going to need his help figuring out where that book came from and how the hell it got here." I bit out, my anger seeping into my words as I thought about that fucking book and what seeing it did to my little brother.

"So we tell him I got taken…do we have to tell him what happened after that?" Sam questioned timidly, the quiver in his voice l hitting me like a knife through the heart.

"I…I don't know Sam. You of all people know how hard it is to research something when you don't have the right information…" I faded out, watching my little brother's face become more distressed by the second.

"We will tell him whatever you're okay with him knowing Sam." I announced confidently after thinking it over for a moment.

Sam had had enough crap happen to him that he didn't have a choice in, and he was going to have a choice now. If he didn't want Bobby to know anything we would work with that, because that's what Sammy wants.

"You mean it?" He asked, looking over at me with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah man, I meant it." I said gently, because it's about damn time the kid gets a say.

Sam nodded, a new confidence emitting from him as the young man sat up just a little bit straighter. My little brother took on a thoughtful look as he continued to sip on his tea. I gave him time to make his decision, noticing that his body wasn't shaking like it had been a little while ago. I realized then that it meant a lot to Sam to have a feel of control over his own life.

"He has to know everything." He said, a sad resignation in his voice.

"You sure?" I asked him, watching as he studied his tea.

Sam looked up at me, hazel eyes deep with an untouchable sorrow as well an assurance, he was positive in his decision no matter how much he hated it.

"Yeah, if we are going to find out how that book got here, he has to know."

And damn if Sam's voice didn't crack on the word book. Every time I think my heart can't possibly ache anymore, this kid proves me wrong and fucking shatters the thing.

"Alright, then we'll tell him." I confirmed.

"You."

What?"

"You have to tell him Dean… I know it's not fair—

"Sam—

"Just let me finish."

I nodded, never able to deny my brother such simple requests, even though I had a feeling he was about to spout out a load of bullshit.

"I know that it's not easy for you to talk about…what happened. I know that it hurts you as much as it does me."

I shook my head in complete disagreement, but bit my tongue, allowing my brother to finish.

"I know that it'll hurt you to tell Bobby, and I wish that I could do it Dean. But…but I can't man. I just…I don't think I could say it out loud like that…to him." Sam finished in a whisper.

"Sam, it's fine. I never would have expected you to be the one to tell him. I got this alright, we will go chill on the couch and I'll fill Bobby in."

My little brother looked at me, his eyes getting wet as he clenched his jaw.

"What's wrong Sam?" I asked.

"Do I…do I have to be in the room?" Sam questioned, his eyes downcast.

"You don't want to be?" I guess when I thought about it, it made sense that Sam wouldn't want to sit through the re-telling of one of the worst days of his life…but there was something bothering me about the look on his face.

"Not really." Sam croaked.

"Any specific reason?" I felt stupid asking that, the answer seemingly obvious, but I couldn't hep feel there was more to Sam's reasoning.

And the way the kid was chewing on his bottom lip, I knew my instincts were accurate.

"Sammy?" I asked in my no-bullshit-tone.

"I don't want to see it."

"See what?"

"His face."

"Who's face, that bastard's?"

"No, Bobby's."

"Sam I'm not catching on here man."

He let out a long sigh, glancing between me and his half-finished tea as he answered.

"I don't want to see his face when he finds out what happened… don't want to see it when he thinks different of me."

I couldn't believe the crap I was hearing.

"What the hell Sam?" I spouted in disbelief.

My little brother raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Dude this is Bobby. He's not going to think any different of you. And even if it wasn't Bobby, why the hell would anyone think different of you just because of what happened when you were little?" I asked, completely baffled.

"Dad did." Sam admitted with a shrug.

I honestly couldn't believe the words that were dropping out of this kid's mouth.

"No, Sam. He didn't."

"But he did! He couldn't even look at me for months, and when he did he looked at me differently." Sam insisted.

"He couldn't look at you because he was ashamed Sam!"

"I know! He was ashamed of me! He was ashamed of having a son that let something like that happen to him!" Sam yelled out, he probably would have stood had he had the energy.

"For the last time Sam, you did not **let** that scumbag do anything! It is not your fault. How could you possibly be blamed for something you had no control over? You were ten fucking years old Sammy!" I responded in a matching volume, my voice breaking in emotion as I implored my little brother to believe me.

"I know Dean." Sam admitted, "But he looked at me different."

"Yeah Sam." I sighed. "He looked at you differently because he was ashamed with **himself**."

Sam's face filled with confusion, so I proceeded to explain the reality to my stupid little brother.

"He was ashamed in himself for failing as a father. Dad hated that he left us there, he hated that he didn't protect you, that he wasn't there to prevent what happened." I stated seriously, leaning across the table, close to the kid's face, needing him to hear and understand what I was saying.

"He hated himself Sammy. It had nothing, **nothing** to do with you." I declared.

Sam stared at me, wide eyes full of hope as he searched for the truth in my statement.

"I mean it Sam. Dad never blamed you. He never saw you differently. It was himself he saw differently." I informed the kid.

I felt an absurd amount of relief when Sam nodded his head in acceptance.

"What we tell Bobby won't change the way he sees you Sammy. I promise you that." I assured the nervous kid.

"So we will tell him. And we'll tell him together."

Sam's eyebrows went up as his mouth formed the beginning of an argument, but I started speaking before he could voice his protest.

"I will do the talking, but I want you there. I want you to see with your own stupid puppy dog eyes that Bobby won't see you any differently than he does now." I insisted. Knowing that the only way Sam would truly believe that the older hunter didn't see him as any less, was if he was right there to watch the man's reaction.

"Alright Dean." Sam agreed softly, his hazel gaze nervous as he stared at me.

"It'll be alright Sammy." I promised confidently, patting the kid on the arm.

Sam gave me a half a smile, before returning his attention to his tea.

I could tell the kid was nervous. I could practically feel the tense energy coming off of him.

He was scared.

Scared of Bobby knowing the truth. Scared that his surrogate uncle would see him differently.

Those fears may be completely unnecessary, but they are still real.

Being the big brother, it is my job to ease those fears, to diminish them completely.

And that is exactly what I plan on doing.

I will call Bobby down here and we will tell him what happened. I will make sure that he makes it clear to Sam that the new-found knowledge changes nothing between them.

Then I will set Bobby to work on figuring out where the hell that fucking dinosaur book came from. I will have him locate the bastard while I work on getting my little brother to get some sleep.

Because taking care of Sammy is my job and there is no way in hell I will let him down.

Not again.

Not ever.

* * *

><p>Note: Thanks for reading! Please review, I cannot possibly express how much I value your comments. - Sam<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Thank you so much for the reviews/comments! They make me feel better about how late I stay up writing.

* * *

><p>Sam was in pain.<p>

It was clear by the grimace that seemed stuck to his face.

As I knew he would, my brother refused to take his meds, having no desire to experience any further recollections of the past.

So instead I stuffed him full of every non-drowsy over-the-counter drug that Bobby had, hoping that it would do something to ease the kids' pain.

I watched as Sam shifted around uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"How about you go lay down on the couch. I'll warm up those heat-packs. We'll get you set and then call for Bobby." I suggested.

The young man looked to be in thought for a moment before nodding in agreement and turning around to slowly trudge into the other room.

I grabbed the heating packs and warmed them up, helping Sam lie on his stomach and placing them carefully along his back.

"That okay?" I asked softly, content with the nod I received in reply.

"You ready?" I questioned, coming around to get a look at the young man's face.

Sam was chewing on his lip, I sure sign of nerves and uncertainty, but he nodded after a couple seconds.

"You ready?" He asked me in return, his tone full of emotion.

I shook my head ruefully, because damn this kid. Worried about me when it was him in such pain.

"Yeah." I confirmed with a nod of my head.

It was a lie of course, because obviously I wasn't fucking ready. I would never be ready to dictate one of the worst memories I possessed.

But it had to be done, and there was no way in hell I was making my kid brother go through that, so I took a deep breath and did my best to steal my nerves before calling out for Bobby.

The older hunter came lumbering down the stairs, looking at me curiously and then glancing at the man laid out on the couch, eyebrows raised in question.

"We've got something we need to tell you." I said, doing my best to appear and sound all business.

Bobby nodded, because he knew as much, and he made his way over to sit in the recliner, facing the couch.

I went to go sit at the end of the couch, by Sam's feet, but my little brother stopped me, long fingers wrapping around my wrist. I looked down as the young man tugged on my arm, he shifted his long body down, giving me room to sit and then laying his head on my leg once I was situated.

I was taken aback by the blatant display of vulnerability, especially since we were not the only two people in the room. Bobby also took note of my little brother's behaviour, sending me a questioning look. I just shrugged in response, because although such a display was not overly common with Sam, if this is what he needed then I was more than fine with it.

"So you boys going to fill me in on what's been going on?" Bobby asked casually.

I took a deep breath, knowing that there was nothing I could do, no strategy I could adopt to make this go any easier.

I was struggling to find the words to begin, not sure how to start out the process of relaying one of my most horrific memories.

"Does this have something to do with Herrick Town? Something that happened there?" Bobby questioned, as though he could sense my inability to begin.

"Yes." I said with a nod, and I went from there.

The beginning was simple. I told Bobby how Dad had taken a hunt in the area and left us at a motel in town, within walking distance of the school. I talked about how after the first little while I had picked up a dishwashing job at the diner and how Sammy would sit at a booth and do his homework while I worked, so I could keep an eye on him. I snorted at that part, because I had sure done a hell of a job keeping an eye on the kid. Sam slapped my knee at my sound of disgust, no doubt his way of admonishing me for blaming myself.

I went on to tell Bobby about the man that had approached Sam and how I had been sent to work at the back and when I finished I came out and Sam was gone. I told him how I ran all the way back to the motel…and then I paused, because this was the hard part.

The last time I had said what I saw aloud had been to my Dad right after it happened. My mouth was having trouble forming the words and that familiar rage was pumping its way through my veins.

Apparently Sam sensed my barely contained anger because he reached out, searching until he found my clenched fist and pulled it over his shoulders, uncurling my fingers and sliding his hand into my grasp.

I looked at the shaggy head still resting on my thigh and reached down to comb my little brother's long hair to the side so I could see his face. Sam's eyes were glistening with tears yet to be shed as he stared ahead, looking in Bobby's general direction, but clearly not making eye-contact with the older man.

I looked up to the hunter waiting patiently for me to continue, his face set and expression schooled, but I had a feeling that when he heard what I was about to say, all of that would change.

I took a deep breath, instinctively clenching on tighter to the hand wrapped in my fingers.

"I…I got to the motel and went to the uhh… the room I had remembered seeing that guy standing in front of a few days earlier. I broke the door in and...and Sam was there and that guy…that bastard was…"

I choked on my words, unable to verbalize the term that Sam had utilized earlier, regardless of how accurate it was. Long fingers clenched onto my knee as I gripped tighter to Sam's hand in mine, trying to shove down the violent fury flowing through my body.

"Sam was tied to the bed, wearing just boxers." I bit out, not failing to notice how Bobby visually tensed at my words.

I then realized how much was riding on the older man's reaction. I almost felt I should have warned him, because his response could make or break my little brother.

"That son-of-a-bitch was on top of him." I could only manage one quick sentence at a time, I stared at the blank tv trying to collect my words.

I heard a soft sniffle come from my little brother, knowing that we were both reliving the same moment, I looked down to see a few tears sliding down his face as he stared intently at the floor, his body trembling just a little. Instinctively I began combing my fingers through his mess of hair, the motions seeming to calm both of us.

"He was…he was touching Sammy." My voice cracked on my brother's name, as I felt the moisture gathering in my eyes. Any sort of rage-full outbreak had been prevented, due to the little brother resting and gripping onto me, but in its place was an all-encompassing despair.

"I found out after he had...he'd taken pictures of Sam…laying there like that, in just his underwear." I added in disgust.

I didn't dare look to Bobby or Sam, afraid that what I'd see in either of their expressions would make me lose the little composure I was holding on to.

"When I found them, I told that fucker to get off Sam. Locked him in the bathroom." I remembered, hoping the fragments of information I was having to force off my tongue were enough to get the story across.

"I uhh, I got Sam out of there. Took him back to our room and called Dad." I stated, relieved that the worst part was over.

"He came back and I told him were that bastard was. Dad took care of him." I finished lamely. Feeling as though the words I used did not properly relay the absolute horror of the situation. That feeling vanished as soon as I glanced up at Bobby.

The hunter's body was tense, his fists clenched and that neutral expression on his face was gone, replaced by one of hate and disgust. I knew that regardless of how I explained the situation, Bobby had grasped how fucking horrific it was.

This reaction was one I should have predicted. I knew how much Bobby cared for Sam, I knew that in a lot of ways he saw him as a son, and myself as well. I should have realized how much this story would affect the older hunter, should have known that it would hurt him.

Bobby's eyes looked into mine for a brief moment, but long enough for me to see the anguish he was feeling. Then his gaze flickered down to Sam, I watched as my little brother felt eyes on him and looked across as the man timidly. I watched as the older hunter's eyes filled and he tore his gaze from Sam, standing abruptly.

"I need some air." He mumbled, his voice gruff with emotion as he vacated the room.

I listened as he marched through the kitchen and heard the hinges on the front door squeal as it was opened and slammed closed.

Sam and I stayed where we were, a blanket of silence over the room.

Until my little brother spoke up.

"I told you." The declaration was made in a raspy voice that was so soft I almost missed it.

"What?" I asked, looking down at the shaggy head resting on my leg.

"Told you it would change things." Sam elaborated miserably.

"Come on man, you know it's not like that." I sighed, because this is what I had been afraid of.

"Yeah Dean, that's exactly what it's like." Sam argued, shifting off of me and trying to rise into a seated position.

"Whoah hold on." I said, attempting to grab the heating packs off of Sam's back before he started moving around.

He ignored me, letting them fall off the couch as he sat up.

"Dude you should keep these on, they're still warm." I announced picking one up off the floor.

"I'm fine." Sam responded, the bitterness in his tone impossible to miss.

"Sammy, just give Bobby some time to digest. He just found out, he needs a minute, he'll come around." I reassured confidently.

"And what if he doesn't?" The timid question made by the young man hidden behind his hair and staring sadly at the ground had my heart aching.

"He will Sam. Bobby isn't going to blame you for what happened." I stated, because even the notion of that was absurd.

"Maybe not, but he'll look at me different."

"No Sam, he won't. And neither did Dad, I thought we already went through this."

"Other people did." Sam whispered.

"What other people? We never told anybody else." I asked in confusion.

"You don't have to tell them, some people just know."

"Sam you're not making any sense." I said, ducking my head down to try and get into my little brother's line of sight and figure out what the hell the kid was going on about.

"That guy in Ohio knew."

"What guy Sam? Ohio is a pretty big state so you're going to have to be a little more specific." I pointed out in frustration, because I really hated being out of the loop.

"At the motel, when I was little. He grabbed me…it was one of the last times I had a panic attack." Sam stated, looking up at me through his bangs to see if I had caught on.

"You remember?" He croaked, eyes full of so much emotion that I wanted to look away.

"Yeah Sammy, I remember." I answered softly, because I did, I remembered as clear as though it had happened just yesterday.

_Sam was fourteen, though he really didn't look it, with his baby face and wiry build he looked more like 12. And even though the kid was starting to grow, he had a long ways to go, still a good foot and a half shorter than me. These are the sort of things I observe when I'm bored out of my mind in some stuffy motel room watching my little brother study like the nerd that he is. _

"_I'm going to go grab us some dinner." I finally announced, rising off of the bed and slipping my shoes on. _

"_Okay." Sam muttered, not bothering to look up from his textbook. _

"_What do you want?" I asked him, standing in front of the tiny kitchen table where he had set up shop. _

"_Umm, just a chicken sandwich." Sam answered with a shrug. _

"_That's it?" I asked, this kid's lack of appetite always bothering me. _

_He just nodded. _

_I rolled my eyes, knowing that I would grab my little brother something else to eat, be it soup, salad, or cookies, because Sam would usually eat those. A sandwich just wasn't enough, not in my books, no wonder the squirt was so small. _

"_Dude you've been at that for like three hours." I pointed out. _

_Sam gave no response. _

"_Do you want to take a break, come with me to the diner?" I asked. _

_The teen shook his head, displaying complete disinterest in my suggestion. _

"_Fine, whatever, be a dork." I sighed, making my way to the door. _

"_Use the change on my nightstand to go grab drinks from the vending machine." I ordered, watching Sam nod in reply. _

"_Get me a Dr. Pepper." _

_Sam nodded again. _

"_And a pony." I threw in, to see if the kid was paying any attention. _

"_There's not enough change for that Dean." Sam stated with a smirk, finally looking up at me. _

"_Damn, guess I'll just have to stick with the soda then." I replied in fake disappointment. _

_Sam rolled his eyes, his dimples showing his amusement as he returned his gaze to his homework. _

_What a dork. _

"_I want two drinks on that table by the time I get back. And it would be nice if you cleared off enough space for us to eat, unless you want me getting ketchup stains all over you schoolwork." _

_Sam snorted a laugh and nodded his head. _

_I took that as a yes and made my exit. _

_The diner was just a block away, I could have walked, but I never passed up on the opportunity to show off the Impala. I drove to the diner and parked my baby, going in to order the food and returning with it less than twenty minutes later. Double bacon burger with fries and a slice of pie for me, chicken sandwich with a ceaser salad and a couple chocolate chip cookies for the midget. _

_I didn't always go all out in the food department like that, but Sammy and I had been living off microwave food for the past couple of weeks and I had won a chunk of cash in a poker game last night. _

_I drove back to the motel, munching on fries as I cruised through the practically empty streets of the small town. _

_I pulled into the motel parking lot, climbing out of the front seat and just about to reach in and grab the takeout bag, when I heard someone talking. It wasn't the fact they were speaking that caught my attention, but the words that were being said. _

"_Whoah there son, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_I looked up over the top of the Impala to see the source of the phrase, it sounded as though someone was trying to calm a frightened animal. _

_What I saw made me heart stop. _

_Past our room, over by the two vending machines stood a man, but past him, crouched down low to the ground, I spotted a skinny, shaggy haired boy. _

"_Sammy." I said, bolting towards the scene. _

"_Get the hell away from him!" I barked at the person standing before you little brother. _

_The older man startled and he backed away even farther, a confused expression on his face. _

"_Sammy." I called out, reaching for the teen. _

_Before I even made contact, my brother flinched back, slamming against the vending machine as he curled into himself. _

"_Whoah, hey buddy. Just me." I soothed, hearing the rapid breathing and seeing the thin body tremble, just beginning to realize what was going on. _

"_I don't know what happened." I turned to look over my shoulder at the man's announcement. _

"_What the fuck did you do to him?" I yelled out, turning to stand protectively in front of my terrified little brother. _

"_Nothing I swear!" The older man declared. _

"_I was just waiting for the machine and the kid dropped his quarter so I put a hand him to get his attention and all the sudden he was swinging at me." _

_I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Sam still curled up and shaking, knowing now that it was a panic attack the kid was having. _

"_All I did was grab his wrists to keep him from coming at me, but then the boy started having some sort of fit and just backed away and curled up like that." The man explained, gesturing to where my baby brother was currently cowering away in fear. _

_I turned back towards Sam. Recognizing the man was no longer a threat, I focussed all my intention on my kid. _

"_Sammy, Talk to me man." My voice was soft and gentle as to not further frighten the teen. _

_Sam's small body was shaking like a leaf in a tornado, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and take him in my arms, but feared that he would push me away. _

"_Buddy please. Look at me kiddo." I pleaded, my palm hovering over the soft brown hair, unsure if contact would help or hurt. _

_Before I could decide a trembling tentative hand reached towards me. Sam remained curled up, head bent and hidden behind his knees, but his thin fingers trailed my chest, stopping once they reached the amulet, and locking onto it. _

_I small smile flittered across my face, because fuck I love this kid. _

"_Yeah kiddo, it's me." I confirmed, placing my hand over the one that was gripping the small gold charm hanging from my neck. _

_Sam finally lifted his head, the long hair still covering his eyes, but the rest of his face visible as he directed it up at me. I reached out slowly and slid the bangs off the young teen's face, my heart clenching at the wide watery eyes that stared up into mine. _

"_That's my boy. Now slow down your breathing Sammy." I ordered, taking a slow deep inhale, willing my little brother to follow. _

"_There you go buddy, you've got it." I encouraged a moment later when Sam was gaining a hold on his breathing. _

_A period of time and many soothing promises later, hyperventilation was no longer impending and the teen's hard shaking had eased into a light tremble. I slowly pulled my brother to his feet. _

"_What's wrong with him?" _

_At Sam's flinch I glared over my shoulder at the man, I had forgotten about his presence until now. _

"_He's fine." I bit out, placing an arm across my kid brother's shoulders. _

"_He doesn't look it." The man declared. _

"_Son are you alright?" He asked Sam, bending to get closer to him. _

_Sam just looked up at me and I moved him further behind me, stepping directly in front of him, blocking the older man's view. _

"_I said he's fine." I sated through clenched teeth, getting really tired of this nosy jackass. _

"_He's pale and shaky, that's not fine. He might need medical attention." The man declared, pulling a cellphone from his pocket. _

"_No! He doesn't. He's alright." I insisted, not wanting the police involved. _

_The older man raised an eyebrow, phone still in his hand. _

_I continued, needing to reassure him, the last thing I wanted was child services pounding down the door. _

"_He just, he had a panic attack. He doesn't like people touching him." I tried to explain vaguely. _

_A moment later a sort of realization dawned on the man's face and then he was looking around me to Sam, an expression of pure pity on his face. Not sympathy or sadness, just pity. _

_I hated it, and from the ducked head and shade of red colouring my kid's face, I knew that he hated it even more. _

"_Come on Sammy." I said, pulling him into my side and directing us towards the door. _

_The older man didn't say anything after that just watched as we walked back to the room, which I hated him for, because Sam visibly shrunk under his stare. _

"_Here, let's get you back inside." I said, opening the door and guiding my little brother through the entrance._

_I walked Sam into the room, and pulled out a chair, gently pushing him down into it. _

"_You doing okay?" I asked, noticing the panic attacked seemed to have ended. _

_Sam nodded, glancing up at me, his face full of so many emotions I found it hard to pick one to focus on. _

"_Alright. You sit here, I'm just going to go grab the food." I told him, turning to hurry back to the Impala, but halting instantly at my little brother's response. _

"_No!" Sam cried out, fingers latching on to the bottom of my shirt. _

"_Whoah, dude, what's up?" I asked, spinning back around to face the kid. _

_Sam stared down at the floor, both hands still griping on to my shirt. _

"_Sammy? Talk to me man." I say, gently placing my fingers under the young teens' chin and raising it up so I could see his expression. _

_Two big puppy dog eyes found mine, tears spilling out of them._

"_What's going on kiddo?" I ask, crouching down, forcing Sam to release my clothes as I squatted in front of him. _

"_Ju-just don't leave…please." He requests in a stuttered whisper, eyes imploring me to stay as he again reaches out and grabs hold of the amulet. _

"_Sam, I'm only going to grab dinner from the car." I explained gently, sliding his bangs off his face yet gain. _

"_I know…but just…please, I'll come with you." He suggested. _

"_You sure? You weren't doing too well being outside a few minutes ago." I pointed out, careful to keep my tone soft so as not to sound accusing. _

"_It was just…when he grabbed my shoulder and then I turned around…I didn't see him… I saw…" Sam trailed off, his gaze falling back to the floor. _

"_I know who you saw. But it wasn't him, that bastard is dead Sammy." I ground out, trying to shut the memory of that fucker from my mind. _

"_I know." Sam nodded with a sigh. _

"_I just…I got confused, and then I went to hit him…and he stopped me…well I panicked." Sam confessed, shame filling his features as he avoided my eyes. _

"_Hey Sam. Look at me." I order, because this kid needed to hear me out. _

_I waited for those hazel eyes to find me, continuing when they did. _

"_This wasn't your fault. That douche-bag shouldn't have touched you. And no one would blame you for reacting like you did Sammy, you didn't know what his intentions were." I specified. _

_Sam seemed to consider my argument, and shockingly enough he appeared to be accepting it, nodding his head in what I took as agreement. _

"_Alright, I'm going to grab the food, I'll just be a sec." I assured my little brother, straightening up and turning for the door. _

_Sam stood quickly, looking skittish stepped closer to me. _

"_You want to come?" I asked softly. _

_The young teen nodded in reply. _

"_Okay, let's go." I said. Sam hadn't been this clingy for a while, but if this is what he needed to feel safe, than I sure as hell wasn't going to deny him such a small comfort. _

_We walked back to the door we had just come in and I opened it, looking out to confirm that man was no longer standing around and then heading towards the Impala. _

_I pretended not to notice when I felt bony fingers gripping on to the back of my shirt as I made my way to the passenger door. Reaching in I grabbed the bag of take-out and then turned to head back to the motel. Sam wasn't paying attention and didn't turn with me, my shirt tugging as he maintained his grip, but didn't follow. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as the kid frantically searched the area, his eyes roaming everywhere, his body tense and jumpy._

"_Sam." I called back softly, watching him flinch to attention and look at me. _

"_You're okay buddy. I'm right here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." I declared with confidence, letting the kid see the promise in my eyes. _

_Sam's hazel orbs stared into mine for a moment, before a small smile swept across his face and he nodded. _

_And damn if that dimply smile and trusting stare didn't make me feel like the most important person on the fucking planet._

_It wasn't until we were back in the motel room with the door locked and closed that Sam finally released his grip on my shirt. If he were just a few years younger he would have opted for locking his arms around my torso, but the kid was at the age where he was striving for independence. Unfortunately traumatic memories and panic attacks don't give a shit about teenage independence._

_My little brother sat heavily into one of the two chairs set around the table. He absently watched as I unloaded the take out bag. The food probably wasn't too hot anymore, but I could deal with warm. I realized once everything was on the table that we didn't have anything to drink, but I wasn't willing to bring it up and risk Sam feeling guilty, so I simply took a seat._

_I looked over at my little brother and saw the small smile playing on his face, following his line of sight I realized he was staring at the chocolate chip cookies. _

_I smiled, because did I know my little brother or what!?_

"_You good?" I asked as I unwrapped my burger. _

_Sam took a moment, pondering his response. _

_And then I had two big soulful eyes staring up at me, a bright smile putting two dimples on display. _

"_Yeah. I'm good." He said through the smile. _

_And just like that everything was perfect in my world, because as long as Sam is good, I'm good. _

_That's just how it works. _

"He knew."

The memory faded from my mind as Sam's voice brought me back to the present.

"What?" I asked.

"He knew, that guy outside the motel. The one that grabbed me. He knew why I freaked out, and he looked at me different." Sam explained, his tone the epitome of misery.

"You don't know that he knew. And dude that douche didn't even know you. Who cares how he looked at you."

"He looked at me like I was broken Dean!" The volume of the declaration startled me as I stared at my distressed little brother.

"Sam, Bobby is not going to look at you like that alright?" I said, not really sure how I was going to win this one.

"How could he not now that he knows what happened to me? What that guy did." Sam asked, his voice cracking as his eyes grew moist.

"I don't." I announced, deciding to take a different approach.

"What?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"I know what happened, hell I saw." I shivered as that fucking image bombarded my mind.

"And I never looked at you different." I finished.

"That's different." Sam objected, his voice now as soft as a whisper.

"How?"

"Because…because you're…you're you." Sam stuttered out, failing to get his point across.

"Come again?"

"You're just you. That's the way you are. You would never see or treat me any different because of something like that happening. But that doesn't mean that other people won't."

I paused at the response. Content that Sam recognized the fact that nothing that happened would ever change how I saw the kid, but frustrated that the same rules didn't seem to apply to everyone.

"Bobby won't." I stated with more confidence than I actually possessed.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked earnestly.

"Because he knows you Sam. He knows you're not broken. He knows how strong you are." I elaborated.

Sam's eyes searched mine, looking for the truth in my words, looking to see if I believed them myself. And I did, so I let him search.

After a moment the kid seemed satisfied, giving me a small nod, his hair falling in front before his eyes. He wasn't completely sold, but I could tell my brother was willing to buy the argument for now.

I was almost grateful for all that hair, because those eyes held so much emotion, and it was always so strong, staring down into my soul and on occasion it was too hard to look at.

"How's your back?" I asked, clearing my throat, looking for a change in topic before I end up bawling like a girl.

"It's alright." Sam said with a shrug.

"Really?" I remark in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

My little brother rolled his eyes, knowing precisely what I was getting at.

"Want to try that again without the bullshit?"

"Pretty sore I guess." Sam relented.

I nodded, because that sounded a lot more accurate.

"You want to lie down? I'll heat those up again." I offered, gesturing towards the heating-packs littering the floor.

The young man sighed heavily, twitching in discomfort as he looked around reluctantly.

"Come on man, I'll even find some lame documentary for you to watch while you let the heat do its job."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but a good-natured smile played on his lips as he nodded.

"Okay." Sam sighed, allowing me to help guide him slowly down into a horizontal position on the couch. The young man groaned loudly as he stretched out, shifting around for a moment searching for a comfortable position, settling onto his stomach.

I grabbed the heating packs off the floor and took them to the kitchen, tossing them in the microwave. As I waited for them to warm, I looked at the window. Bobby was leaning against an old broken down car. The older man's back was to me, so I couldn't see his face, but I noticed he was twisting his ball-cap around in his hands, bending the brim practically in half.

I wondered what was going through he hunter's mind at the moment, thinking I could probably make a pretty good guess. The beeping from the microwave brought me back to focus and I grabbed the three packs and returned to my brother.

My priority number one.

I snorted when I entered the room, seeing some narrated program about lions playing on the old television.

"It amazes how you always manage to find this kind of shit." I snickered, ignoring the choice finger Sam flashed my way as I carefully pulled up his shirt.

I shook my head at the stubborn bruises that refused to fade-away and gently placed the heating sources along the young man's messed up back, careful not to cause any additional pain to the area.

Sam sighed as the warmth invaded his skin and did its job at relaxing the tensed up muscles underneath.

"How's that feel?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but reassured by the positive thumbs up my brother sent me.

I smiled, satisfied that my kid seemed to be at ease and wishing that perhaps he would fall asleep shortly, but I knew that that sort of thought was likely too optimistic.

My body began to relax as I stood there looking down at my little brother, because after all the emotion and tension of the last few hours everything was going to be alright, Sammy was alright.

"Dean?"

"Yeah." I responded automatically to the call.

"Can you check on Bobby?"

I wandered around the couch, sending the kid a curious look.

"Bobby's a big boy Sam, I think he can take care of himself." I declared.

"I know but maybe you should make sure he's okay, you know? Make sure he isn't trashing the shop or anything." Sam said, a smirk on his face as he craned his neck to look up at me.

"Nah, that's more my style little brother. Bobby likes to stand around and think about things, like you do." I stated, not missing the way the young man's smile widened at my comment.

"I'm a little more—

"Rash? Hotheaded? Destructive?" Sam finished for me.

"Bitch." I quipped.

"Jerk." Sam replied, giving me a big dimply smile, adoring eyes staring up at me for a moment before he laid his head back down on the couch and stared at the T.V. screen.

I swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat.

This fucking kid, always making me feel like a hero. Looking up at me, trusting me as though I deserved even a fraction of the faith he had in me, or the love and forgiveness he always showed me.

The protectiveness surged through me as I stared down at the young man stretched across the couch, dark circles under his eyes displaying his exhaustion.

I would find a way to stop the nightmares.

I would find the son-of-a-bitch that sent that fucking book.

I would do whatever it takes to keep my kid safe.

Because Sam deserved to be safe.

He deserved to be happy.

And my kid sure as hell deserved to get some fucking rest.

* * *

><p>Note: Hopefully this chapter isn't complete rubbish. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! - Sam<p> 


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